Anticipation

Sitting here on the eve of my third year teaching, listening to Bruce Hornsby croon and Bela Fleck pluck the banjo, my anxiety and excitement are palpable. Every teacher knows the feeling; at least the good ones do. About 18 hours before that first bell rings, a pit forms in the stomach. It starts off about the size of a peach pit, when thoughts of the last summer day are still encompassing the mind's eye, but by dinnertime on that last night, the pit has grown to the size of a melon in anticipation for the 150 new faces to meet and entertain tomorrow.

Visions take shape of men and women in suits, shaking the hands of the young men and women who will enter the room 180 times for the next year, wherein they will experience--among other things like eating, entertaining, bad acting, singing, laughing, occasional crying, yelling, reading, and expounding--most of all, learning. Yes, this is the business of learning and for those critics who say teachers have it easy, with all the time off and all the cushioning that comes with the job, I ask them to experience the 24 hour anticipation that comes with each new year, knowing that what happens when that bell rings will shape the relationship with those 150 kids for the next year, and quite possibly for the rest of their lives. Now that's some heavy stuff.