Back to School Isn't Just About the Kids

“You learn something new every day if you pay attention.”

---Ray LeBlond

While one doesn’t have to be in school to learn, it is that time of year. Folders, binders and
supplies are flying off the shelves, the big yellow buses are rolling, and it’s what some parents
(and at least one store advertisement) have called “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”
I get that. Summer is great fun for the kids, but it can be a hassle for parents. The beach,
backyard BBQs, longer days, sea breezes and sand are a much-needed part of growing up. So is
an education and, when September comes, that’s where you’ll find more than a few grumpy
kids.

Parents can breathe a little easier when school starts, at least for the first week or so. They no
longer have to be the activities director. The house is quiet for a few hours and there isn’t a
constant stream of Fortnite players and floss dancers bouncing off the walls. While many might not admit it, the kids get over the moodiness of summer’s end pretty quickly. So, parents are happier now, the kids can start their fall sports and see their friends every day, what’s not to like?

Well, I think we are forgetting a few people in the back to school crunch. What about the
teachers? Summer time, at least part of it, is a huge break for them. Summer means that the
alarm clock isn’t bleating like a lost sheep at some un-Holy early hour. There’s no pile of papers
to grade every night. Lesson plans are not due, classrooms are locked and the fun beach books
are in the “to be read” pile instead of IEPs and curriculum changes. How hard it must be for
educators to put away the sunscreen and, once again, clean, unpack and decorate a classroom.

Think about the first day of school. You arrive at your child’s school, dragging a case of Kleenex
and a tub of wet wipes. The desks all have place cards on them, with the names of students.
There are theme boards with cutesy calendars, and color-coordinated task charts. Who did all
that and when did they have time? The teacher did it, and they make the time while most of us
still have our toes in the sand and a drink in hand. The whole “Teachers have it made, they
don’t work all summer” concept is a lie. Every single teacher I know spends a good part of the
summer on continuing education, cleaning classrooms, buying supplies with their own money
and planning the year to come. Also, not every teacher can take the summer off. Many have a
second job, because rent needs to be paid in the summer too.

No one likes the fun to come to an end, but teachers have to be ready, on the first day, to take
on the entire year. No kid shows up on the first day of school already knowing how they are
going to teach the unit on fractions, but the teacher does. That’s because they likely worked it out over their “vacation.” Teachers show up at the school room door already knowing the
names of more than 20 kids and the family and health information on a good many of them as
well. They didn’t wait until Labor Day weekend to think about how their classroom should look.
They were likely in that classroom during the dog days of August, setting up a reading corner
and moving furniture around. There is no “Laminating Fairy” that sneaks into the teacher’s
lounge and heat seals 50 sets of handwriting cards and multiplication tables. There are no
education elves that neatly sort crayons and markers into brightly colored bins. That is done by
the teachers while their students are still hitting the waves.

While it’s a lot of work and a job I could certainly never do, many of my friends who are teachers say back to school is a new beginning for them. New faces, new challenges and, at
least for the first few days, the fresh clean smell of Xerox paper and red rubber kick balls for recess. January is the start of a new year and when many of us make resolutions to get
organized, start over, do better at something. Personally, I find no renewed motivation for anything but Netflix and bacon during the frigid days of January. September and back to school is my jam. What a perfect time to turn over a new leaf, when they’re all gorgeously gold and red, showing their best sides. Teachers know this too, and they’ve come prepared to make it happen for our kids. So while you dance back to the car after drop off, take a minute to realize that this day didn’t just appear out of thin air. It happened because dedicated education professionals skipped a few beach days. To the teachers I know, welcome back, you were missed.

Into The Mystic

"We were born before the wind

Also younger than the sun

Ere the bonnie boat was won as we sailed into the mystic

Hark, now hear the sailors cry

Smell the sea and feel the sky

Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic."

----Van Morrison

Here we are, deep into another seaside summer. The Arts Festival has wrapped, Race Week has come and gone, and while it's still light out after supper, the days are getting shorter. I have a friend who says it's the "Summer of J" because he's spending it boating, fishing and annoying his children. He might think it's his, but the best part about summer is that we all make it our own.

Summer changes every year too; it's not always the same. The summer my daughter is having is, quite simply, epic. Paddling around the harbor, zipping through the streets on a bright yellow moped, and sucking down iced coffee with friends is how she spends her days. I'm spending too much time in my much appreciated but artificial feeling air conditioning, working, but at her age, I also had an epic summer. Summer evolves each year, or does it just seem that way to me?

When I was five years old, my mother decided I could be at the beach by myself. I know, right? It was 1969; if Neil Armstrong could go to the moon, she figured I was safe at the beach. She'd pack me a lunch and send me down the street. It's not like I was alone, the whole neighborhood was there, that's how it was. The moms showed up later in the day. Looking back, I think they were all in cahoots to get us out of the house. When we weren't at the beach we were riding bikes, or at the park or playing in someone's driveway, with a hose and buckets. It was what some marketing genius now calls a "free range" childhood. It was just another summer though.

As I got older, summer definitely changed. In high school it was all about my babysitting job, which fortunately was only mornings, going to the beach, and joy rides in my boyfriend's truck. There were ice cream runs to Treadwell's, a pool day now and then at the JCC (full disclosure, none of us were members, we would hop the back part of the fence and blend in) and trips to Salem Willows for Skeeball and lousy pizza. It was everything a teenage summer should be, including the inevitable heartbreak and boyfriend drama.

Once I was college, summers became about internships and resume building. I spent every college summer working in Boston, sweating through broken down subways and lunch breaks on the Common. When you're nineteen years old, and you get to sit in on meetings about what will happen in case of national disaster (FEMA has an excellent internship program), and then you spend your weekends going on road trips with friends, zipping around North Conway and swimming in creeks, you start to feel like the world really is your oyster.

What I wouldn't recommend doing in the summer is being 14 months pregnant. OK, it wasn't quite that long, but having a baby in mid-July immediately cancels out any swimwear or, for that matter, sleep. My oldest didn't like air conditioning; only one bedroom had it, and he wouldn't sleep there, so I put his crib in the living room while I slept on the couch. In this context "Slept" refers to the few hours between midnight and dawn that I spent with one eye open while Andy was alternately hangry, wet or generally unpleasant. I took him to the beach that year once, as I drove by it at midnight, with the car windows open, hoping the night air would help with the croup he had.

Summers have come a long way in our house. No more babies unless you count the whiny pug (who is feeling much better, thank you to those who have asked.) There are still beach days with friends, but mostly at sunset, after work, and with a tiny glass of wine, because hydration is essential. No more water balloons and super soaker battles in the yard. No more rushing to catch the boat to Children's Island. One thing hasn't changed though. Each summer, I treat myself to a giant plate of fried clams. Because nothing says summer like a mouth full of sand and clam bellies. There are still a few precious weeks of lazy days and ocean waves. Enjoy them. Let your soul and spirit fly.