Sunday, August 14, 2011

A note to School.

Hey, School.

Can we hang out again?  It's been long enough so I've almost forgotten what a jerk you were in May.  I'm sorry, I shouldn't bring that up because it's bad for our relationship.  Good thing we didn't see each other for a while, because we might have said some things we'd regret.  A break was good for both of us.  Hey, I bought new shoes and new pens and new whiteboard erasers for you.  That should be kind of cool, right?  You like new things and you never get them as often as you deserve.  Try not to use up all of my supplies in the first week, okay?  We have to be together for a long time and I'm out of money already.

I'm curious about how your first day will go tomorrow and what kind of tone the kids will set for the year.  I'm dreading your five hours of silent stares as I stand up front and try to remember how to speak English and write words while people are watching.  You always get me on the first day, School, you trickster.  If you're going to include some heinous, embarrassing incident like a public failure of spelling or my skirt being tucked into my tights, please let it be in front of some nice kids, huh?

Go ahead and throw in some of those "real life" moments that aren't about standards.  You know how those light me up inside.  And maybe give me, like, one kid who likes to read?  But no parent phone calls--yet.  I'm just not ready.

I know I'm also not ready yet for your tyrannical control over my schedule, and the void I'll be feeling where my couch has been these past three months: under my butt.  I wish it could be like the old days, School, when you still sold some damn chocolate.  You used to be so cool before those nutrition laws.  But School, the one thing I wish more than anything in the world was that you'd let me use the bathroom whenever I needed to, like a grownup.  But it's okay. I understand why it doesn't make sense to you.

Don't worry--I'll bring enough coffee for the both of us.  Honestly that might make the bathroom situation more pressing, but we'll both be glad I'm caffeinated.

School, be kind this year.  I don't think I can take it if a kid walks in and calls me a name on the first day, or makes a joke out of me.  Remember the awesome times when I was able to turn it around on those mean kids, School?  Or the time when I helped that kid prepare for the AP test?  Let's do that again.  Let's pay attention to kids.  Let's find our groove by second period, but not tire out halfway through sixth.  School, I'm really going to need you to distract me at about 1:30 when my body wants to take a nap.  Be a pal and keep me awake.  Help me to put on a damn good Mrs. P Show.

Be full of friends and kind students.  Be free of injuries or copy-room disasters.  Show me that ol' spark again that reminds me why I have such a great job.  Give me some good stories.  And by God, let there be charts.  Here we go, for better or worse.

Love ya.  Mean it.
P

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