In August 1971, I was a 5 year old little cherub in an adorable blue and white jumper with a wide red cotton sash belt and an sweet matching red/white/blue satchel. It was to be my first day of school. My brother, one year older and a bit, had gone the previous year, and when I found out about school, I began to chatter obsessively at Mom (and probably anyone else who would listen) that I couldn't wait to go to school, and wouldn't it be the most grand thing ever? So, properly be-cutened, I walked to first grade with Mom and Rob. When Mom met us at the end of the day, I told her "I'm never going back there."
LOL.
Anyway, today was another momentous first day of school, my first day as a full time teacher. I hadn't dared to hope that it would be wonderful and happy-making for me, but it turned out to be wonderful and happy-making. At the end of the second class, a student came up to me and said she'd tried to sign up for my class, but I wasn't on the course listing. (I was a late replacement for a teacher who took a job elsewhere). She said she was thrilled to find me teaching the class, because she wanted to thank me for being so kind when she took my course online previously* and had to drop for personal reasons. That was the icing on the cake. So many students smiled back at me, and I hope they are excited about the course. They seemed to be.
I love school. I love my school. I'm going back tomorrow. You can't stop me.
*I was teaching as a Graduate Teaching Assistant
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