The First Day Back

Was a dream.

It was like the first day of school again, only better, sweeter, and more chilled. As if the worst was over, the eye of the storm had been reached, and the other side had arrived, but much less scary.

I'm standing at the top of the mountain, looking down at the great expanse of snow reaching out in front of me and knowing that I'm not the only one that can do it. My students can, too.

In the two weeks since we've been gone, my 8th graders have finally stopped hating me, my advisory has made a truce to not be snotty to each other, and the other teachers actually look like people. We even sat and drank tea at lunch, chatting in Hebrew about nothing, not about students.

I don't even care that I have no idea what I'm doing tomorrow, that I just got suckered into some weird Tu B'Shvat shuk thing, and that I still have trouble keeping my class quiet for more than 30 seconds. I did dream up some new ideas, but I'm giving myself three weeks for them to percolate, because suddenly I'm not in a rush. I didn't think about school at all for two weeks until yesterday morning, I know I never would have done that in August, and I am proud.

This morning I was not nervous; I knew not only all the students names but their histories, their moms, and what computer games they like. I'm their teacher, they are my students, and they were happy to see me and happy to be back. Some even complimented me on my haircut and let me talk in opening circle about my vacation, not just about theirs. Some difference from that first terrifying day of school.

I am a teacher, and I'm ready to jump off the ski-lift and enjoy every minute of the downhill slope until June.

And that is why we have vacation.