Or as I call it, The Gloom and Doom Post.
Today was the last good Friday. The final Friday before the whole rat race starts up again. Next Friday I have to worry about the #1 son leaving for college on Saturday. To start fretting about returning to work on Monday. Yes. I've marked my calendar: August 9-Worry About #1, Fret About School. It's good to have a plan.
All next week I will be last-minute stressing. Making sure The Pony has school supplies and clothing. Making sure he's shod. That he hasn't lost his trombone over the summer. We'll have to run by Newmentia to pick up his schedule and locker assignment. I will face the horror of my classroom after the summer staff have had their way with it. The Pony will put things back where they go. I'll hunt down my school laptop and try to get all my wiring re-situated. That is when I'll miss #1 most. Not really. That will be late at night when I notice that he's gone. But getting me up and running technologically has been his job since he was a kindergartener. The Pony's tech skills pale in comparison. I will be a commoner, putting my name on the queue for district tech support.
Yes, next week will be the time to steel myself for the upcoming onslaught of Common Core. Doesn't sound like a teacher eager to hit the newly-waxed tile running, does it? I am not good with change. I have been through so many incarnations in my 25 years that I am jaded. Common Core will one day go the way of the Instructional Management System, The BEST Test, MAP, the open-ended End Of Course, and all the cutting-edge methods and assessments that came before them. And for what?
Seems like us old dogs at least had teachers with time to teach us the basics. Give us a good foundation for our future. Without worrying about our Stanford-Binet scores affecting their jobs. Even had time to teach interesting things, too. Yes, this old dog weeps for the past. Next week.
On opening day, I will be elbowing my way to the front with the other eager beavers, chowing down on that free breakfast, sopping up confidentiality presentations like a hearty biscuit, chomping at the bit to find out what new computer programs are to be mastered in three days, and clearing out my file cabinet to start anew like a beginning teacher.
Let it never be said that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom cannot pull herself up by her own bootstraps and ignite the spark of curiosity in her students. She is a team player to the end.
Which is three short years away.