The Last Night of Summer

T'was the last night of summer
And all through the house
ALL the creatures were stirring
Even the mouse (okay, so it's actually a gerbil, and there are two of them, but you get the point).

See, at my house, my husband and I are both teachers. And Emma is going into 10th grade (did I mention I'm old?). And Ben is going to be a FIRST grader. And Becca, well, Becca is spending her very last year at "Sherrie's school." So this night, this fragile night, I don't think any of us will sleep.

When I was young, I never thought about my teachers stressing about the first day of school. Honestly, I didn't much think about my teachers as actual people, even in high school. But, we do freak out. We really do. I knew a woman who told me that her father, a retired teacher in his nineties, still had first day of school nightmares. I hope I won't ALWAYS have them, but I bet I will. I still have nightmares about college--that I didn't attend a class or I can't find my classes--so I bet I'll still have the "I showed up late wearing flipflops and a ratty T-shirt on the first day of school" nightmare well into my elder years.

This year, I have the pleasure of a brand-new teaching partner. Not just new to me, but new to the profession. Remember that? Remember going to college, studying, doing all your projects, dreaming about your future job? Remember putting together a resume (sorry, I don't know how to type that funky little thing above the letter e in that word), a cover letter, sending out your wishes to prospective employers? Remember going to interviews and answering theoretical questions and hoping you didn't say something stupid? Remember finally, finally getting the phone call that you got the job?? I'm so excited for Erika. I'm so excited for her young, fresh enthusiasm to rub off on me. I'm hopeful that none of my old, dried up, tri-focal crabbiness wears off on her. Although, I've heard from former students that I have more of a reputation as being the kind of teacher who uses a pink cow potholder as a puppet and dances on tables when you get compliments from teachers. I guess it'll be okay if some of that rubs off on her.

So, this last night of summer, we are all pretty excited and antsy. We're looking forward to this year--to me working with Erika, to Eric working with two new partners, to Ben learning to read and add and subtract, to Emma getting college credit from a dual enrollment class, to Becca starting to speak clearly enough that we can understand her. I have to admit, though, that in all this excitement, I do have some sadness at seeing this summer come to a close.

Yes, the kids have been driving me RIGHT UP A WALL. I was an only child, so I had no idea how many topics two people could find to fight about. Wow. It's just amazing.

But, this was THE summer. The one that healed our family. The one that crushed us, then folded its arms around us and held us closer together. This summer, I stepped out of myself and looked at our dinner table and thought, "Yes, yes. This is what we've always wanted." This summer I laughed with my oldest and braided her hair and watched her true self emerge from the shadows. This summer Ben's top teeth began to grow in, and he began asking questions that let you know his brain has really started thinking about the world ("Mom, why do ladies shave their legs?" "I dunno, Bud. They're kind of not supposed to have hair on their legs." "Says who, Mom?" "Good question. Some GUY decided a long time ago. Definitely wouldn't have been a girl." "What guy, Mom? Jesus?" "No, Bud, definitely not Jesus. He wouldn't have cared about leg hair. Just that we love God and love other people." "Then I don't know why you care about leg hair, Mom.") This summer, Becca started riding her little bike with training wheels and running, running, running everywhere, and kissing her babies goodnight like a good little Mommy should. They all grew YEARS this summer, years I'll never get back. It's like washing the sand out from between my toes. I wanted it gone, but, once it is, I know the beach is really over. They were all in these places in their lives that were so frustrating, so annoying, so painful to live with... But now they're really gone, and we can't go back in time. They're not babies anymore. I love and hate that. I really do.

So, if you see me in the morning, I'll have that big, crazy smile on my face. I'll be excited about the new school year, about working with Erika, about my kids moving on. But, I may be walking a little weird. I'm going to try to hang on to one last grain of sand as long as I can.