We’ve turned over a page of the calendar over the weekend, bringing us to September–my favorite month of the year. The weather is warm, but not hot, the mums start blooming, and school starts again.
For the past three summers, I have taught writing part-time at the community college, which was followed by a two-week hiatus before the next semester began. Tomorrow I will meet a new crop of recruits. A new chance to inspire a another group to learn the basics of English grammar and writing.
Even though I’ve taught this same class a half dozen times, each first day of school is filled with apprehension for me. Will I have chemistry with my students, or will they stare at me with glassed-over eyes? Will they see me as a vibrant teacher or some old babe who is making them sit for two hours to plow through the dry subjects of parts of speech. Will the new things I have planned flop or fly? Will I get lucky and impress upon a few students that writing is a fun, creative outlet or will I have to fail over half of them for lack of interest? I ask myself the same questions every time I step in front of a new class.
I’m just happy that we are introduced to each other at such a pleasant time of the year. For some reason, the Fall Semester signals a time to let the fun of summer go and begin work again. It’s been ingrained in us since we were five and toddled off to kindergarten. I only hope my adults students will carry that same excitement I remember when I went back to school every Fall. It would make everything so much easier for all of us.