first day of school – Lindsey P. Brackett

We did it. Lined ’em all up on the front stoop (it’s not a porch though Joshua says he’ll build me one someday) and took the obligatory First Day picture and took them all to new schools.

Yeah, I’m a homeschool quitter.

I love a lot of things about homeschool. I love the freedom to travel. I love reading books with and to my kids. I love the library and the Dollar Tree practice books I discovered late in the season and all my homeschool friends who make it look so easy. But I also had to teach math and y’all, I know my strengths. There’s a reason I made it into college with a really high verbal score on the SAT.

So they went back to school. Little ones love it. There’s colorful classrooms and desks with their names and cafeteria food. My kids have really high standards, can you tell?

But the big ones… well, we sent them to middle school. Most awkward years ever and we sent them to a new school with hardly any friends.

We’re the meanest parents ever. Also, I’ve been told I’m incredibly embarrassing because, turns out, I do know lots of the teachers and there was hugging at Open House and talking too much.

They’re going to survive. I know that. But when your girls cry on you in the minivan and the first day isn’t easy, you do what you have to do to make it better.

We watched Season 1, Episode 2, “The Rorys Go to Chilton”. Because, truly, Rory’s first day was way worst than ours. I wore real clothes for drop off (actually Joshua did the MS drop off) and there was no girl on campus who even came close the rivaling Paris for mean girl crown. Which made my almost-thirteen year old smile and start naming the things that were good.

And that’s my parenting tip of the week. When times get tough and you’re at your wits end trying to make it better, use a little pop culture (pre-screened of course).

I’d love to hear about your first day in the comments here or wherever you have a login saved. And what did I do while they were all in school for a solid eight hours you ask? I worked on proofing the print and Kindle copies of my debut novel which releases next month. NEXT MONTH. You can preorder it on Amazon while you’re buying all the Gilmore Girls episodes.

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links.

Dear First Time Teacher,

I know you’re excited. I know you’ve spent days (maybe weeks) assembling bulletin boards and organizing shelves and color coding plans and reciting your “welcome to my class!” speech while driving across town to chase the best office supplies sales.

I know you think you’re prepared to change the world one first grader or eighth grader or graduate at a time. You are and you will. It just won’t be the way you think.

Your first year teaching will be both the hardest and easiest of your career. The easy comes because it’s the year everyone around you nods in understanding when you say, “It’s my first year.”

Except the parents.

Parents don’t care if you’ve been teaching one year or thirty years, they want the best experience possible for their child because, like you, they’ll never get a do-over on this year.

Remember that when you think they’re your friends. They’re not; they are your employer and deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You, likewise, should expect the same from them because in a conference you are there as the professional.

So be professional and understand, you can be a great teacher and still, not everyone is going to like you.

But sometime later, when this year is over, and you establish a relationship that’s not founded on homework assignments or detention, some of those parents will become your friends and your greatest champions.

The scariest moment is going to come when you close the door to your classroom for the first time and realize you’re alone with close to 30 students who are waiting for you to make the first move. They’ll size you up that first day and study you more that first week, and then they’ll decide how they’ll treat you. And their decision will always be most impacted by the way you treat them.

It’s your classroom, your routine, your heart that will give those lesson plans in that thick binder plenty of life, and before long, those students will be your kids. You’ll love them more than you ever thought you could love someone else’s child. Of course, there will be plenty you’ll wish you could send next door to someone else, but when your colleagues see them in the halls and the cafeteria and they gym, they’ll be yours. You’ll be responsible for them the whole time they’re on that campus, and there will be a precious few for whom the burden of responsibility will transcend an 8-hour day.

People will judge you by them. This isn’t some new outcome of years spent with NCLB, it’s how it’s always been. You may not be able to control whether someone fed them dinner last night or if they got up alone in the dark to catch a bus just so they could get breakfast, but you can control your classroom. You can make it a safe place and you can make it, first and foremost, a sanctuary for learning.

I promise you can.

You just have to remember that you can’t save them all.

You are one person in a long line of educators and counselors and coaches and administrators, so sometimes all you can do is pray that someone else succeeds when you feel like you’re failing.

That’s okay. You don’t have to be everything to everybody.

Chances are, when you’re a teacher, you’re everything to at least one.

Have a wonderful first year. Learn from your mistakes (you’re going to make them). Make new friends with those in the trenches with you. Build a community. Cling to grace.

You are a teacher.