The first day that I went to school yes, I remember clearly . . .

August 31, 2010




It's the last day of August. In a little over a week Em will begin grade 11 and Keith will be in his second year of university.


And I will be back in the classroom.

Where did the summer go?

I love the beginning of the school year, or, I love September, which happens to be the beginning of the school year.

Either way, September and October are my favourite months. The weather is moving from so-oppressively-hot-that-sitting-in-Frankie's-puppy-pool-in-my-bathing-suit-is-worth-blinding-the-entire-population-of-Fredericton, to cool-and-breezy-liveable-daytime-temperatures-and-easy-sleeping-nightime-temperatures-that-allow-my-psycho-side-to-hibernate.

I love the palate of fall colours that fill the trees. Harvest time, lucious stews, hot homemade soup, making bread, long walks with the dogs, early nights where I curl up on the loveseat to watch the new season of House, Criminal Minds, and the other programs I enjoy watching with the kids.

I don't know how I feel about November. It depends on how early the snow starts.

And December is a bi-polar roller coaster ride of fluctuating joy and manic panic: joy at the term being over, to manic panic about the endless end of the term marking, to joy that the term is over, to manic panic over Christmas.

(As an aside, any mother will tell you that Christmas is ANYTHING BUT relaxing. . .no matter how old your kids are!)

But right now I am happy September will be here tomorrow. Even if we are suffering through July temperatures that make me want to lie naked in Frankie's pool and risk the blinding of small aircraft pilots, or having them mistake me for an suburban landing pad.

Or potential jail time for very indecent exposure.

I love the delusions of September brings. Most people make resolutions at New Year's. Not me. I am all about

September Delusions

Delusion #1: I will be organized this year.

Ask anyone, teaching assistant, research assistant, student who happens to walk into my office, organization is completely beyond me. I have purchased all sorts of things that are supposed to keep me organized. Colored file folders, desk dodads that hold files, round thingies for pens and scissors and white out, accordian file folders for research. . .

I have it all.

None of it works.

Why? Because the inherent flaw in all of these organizational goodies is knowing how to use them, and remembering what you put in them.

Neither of which I have mastered.

My office is made up of stacks and stacks and stacks of piles: file folders, empty and with things in them, books literally at the stage of almost, but never quite, toppling over, binders, empty and full. A fan that rests of a pile of papers and I don't even know what they are anymore. My bookshelves are crammed with books, books and more books, movies that are only alphabetized because Emily spent an afternoon organizing them (for a measly $10.00) and Keith reshelves them when I stick them on top of one another, with the delusion that I will put them in their proper place later.

I have plants, which I do remember to water, picture of kids and pets and parents and students, post-its are littered everywhere. . .phone numbers, to-do lists, reminders of things to use in class. I have boxes full of things I can't remember, an empty wine bottle (teaching tool. . .really!) The kid's artwork fills my walls. Even my office door, both sides, hasn't escaped the mania that is me. Keith got a movie-of-the-day calendar one year at Christmas, and I went through it, taking all the pages that had tid-bits of info about crime films. They are now taped all over my door.

You can't imagine the number of people who have almost pooped their pants when I fling open the door, not realizing they are there reading all these glorious tidbits: 12 Angry Men has no women in the cast, or, The heart shaped glasses worn in Lolita were only seen in the publicity posters of the film. They were never a part of the film.

I should keep toilet paper handy.

Delusion #2: I WILL be on time for class.

No matter how hard I try, I can never seem to be on time.

Anywhere.

Ever.

Not for anything. Ask my kids. They have traumatic tales of waiting at school, wondering where the hell I was, and when was I going to get there.

I was 45 minutes late for my first ever date with Stephen. He thought I wasn't coming. When I did get there, it was clear he had been dealing with his anxiety with martinis.

I have read articles and books and snippets in magazines about how to "manage my time." I have talked with colleagues to see how they manage their time. I have a daytimer, my lifeline, full of all the things I have to do and when they have to be done. Color coded and highlighted in some instances.

I really try. I set my computer clock ahead 15 minutes. I try and have everything organized the night before class starts. I don't make appointments a half hour before class.

Nothing works.

Inevitably, someone calls, be it kids, husband, parents, brother. Or just as I am getting ready to go, there is someone at the door with a CRISIS that has to be dealt with RIGHT NOW! Or I run into a colleague I rarely see on the way to class and we stop to chat. Or there is a line up for coffee and I HAVE to have that coffee or I will not be lucid in any way while in class.

Presuming, of course, that I am EVER lucid.

But, each September, I commit myself to being more proactive about time.

Delusion #3: I will develop a syllabus I can actually deliver, or, at least get through all the material I have outlined.

The BEST line EVER invented is "This syllabus is tentative and is subject to change."

I want to introduce my students to so many things, and there is stuff I just have to share with them, both the stuff they need to know, and stuff I think they should know, and stuff they want to know.

I want to get it all into the course.

Sometimes I am so passionate about what I am teaching that I get a "little" exciteable and move off into directions I never planned, showing clips from 70s television shows that will make my point better than I ever could, or comedy clips that are so poignant I just have to show them.

On the good days, I can find my way back. On the not-so-good-days buckets of coffee- saturated doughnuts wouldn't be enough to help me find my way back.

Delusion #4: I will read and respond to all my email.

I can hear the laughing. I can. I can hear you laughing, snickering, snorting.

Its okay. I deserve it.

Up front, I should say I despise email. My students know this.

I miss the days of actually talking to people. When I was an undergraduate at this very university, in the 1980s, I had to talk to my professors. If I wanted an extension (which of course I NEVER did), or didn't understand something from the lecture (again, never happened) I had to go to the office of my professor, knock on the door, and engage in the face-to-face interaction known as "conversation."

Email allows students to say things to and ask for things from their professors they would NEVER ask face-to-face.

Plus, email means I have to work even more hours than I already do. . .it makes me "accessible" 24 hours a day.

And I am not accessible 24 hours a day. Most days I'm not accessible 24 minutes.

The question, "Did you get my email? You know, the one I sent at 2.30 am. . ." sends me into a state of complete. paralyzed. incredulity.

Let me tell you something: at 2.30 in the morning, I am sleeping on my feather pillow, usually on my right side, mouth guard snuggly fit into my mouth (gotta prevent TMJ), joining the chorus of snoring (although I don't think I snore) filling my bedroom like the orchestra at the Met. The soprano snoring of Goblet, the alto snoring of Reilley and Frankie, the deep baritone of Stephen and Tikka, fighting for just-one-corner-of the duvet so I don't wake up with hypothermia.

So no.

I didnot get your email.

And WHY were you emailing me at 2.30 in the frickin' morning????????!!!!!!!!!!!

Let the September Delusions begin!

Title Lyric: The First Day I Went to School, by The Count from Sesame Street