For as long as I can remember the fall of the year was a time I looked forward to with a sense of excitement. As a kid I became almost giddy as the school year approached. I loved learning and all the tools of the process. I’d pick out my supplies with all the attention to detail of a wedding planner. I’d have my back pack organized and ready to go a week in advance. I was a nerd. A nerd full of hope for the new school year ahead of me.
I knew at an early age I wanted to write. I also knew that it wasn’t an occupation that was easy to make a living at. So, I looked around for occupations of interest and landed on photojournalism. Hey, it was the 60’s. The first televised war. I also loved school, and I really liked teachers. When it became apparent to me that I didn’t have the heart (or should I sake lack of) for journalism, it was a natural turn for me to education. The idea of spending the rest of my life going to school? Totally acceptable.
Now, each fall I wander the aisles admiring the school supplies and prepping for another year of teaching and learning. This school year will open differently. No longer teaching FT so I can focus on my writing and caring for my dad, I am enjoying even more the little rituals of the new school year.