August 23, 2011

August 23, 2011

Back to School

You may have noticed that “back to school” season is upon us once again. I realized yesterday that I have not been a full-time student for seven (SEVEN!) years; however, my body still recognizes that cooler mornings and notebook sales means summer vacation is almost over. Since I was the kind of kid who literally counted down the days until school started (one year, it was like 92 days), I imagine this internal clock will die hard. With a vengeance. Zing.

Even without my killer instinct, enough of my contemporaries teach or have children to keep me in the loop. School started in DC yesterday. Virginia starts after Labor Day. I figure these two weeks will be a gradual ramp-up of buses, small pedestrians, and crossing guards who take their jobs VERY. SERIOUSLY.

Unfortunately, I don’t get to go back to school. What do I miss about that?

I miss picking out my new backpack and lunchbox. They rarely matched, since I preferred a plain color backpack (usually pink) but a character lunchbox (My Little Pony, Strawberry Shortcake, etc.)

I miss poring over the supply list and making sure I got everything on the list, exactly as listed. I feel like some parents see “200-count box of Kleenex” and buy any old box of tissues. I, on the other hand, would search several stores to find a box of Kleenex brand with 200 tissues in it. Never mind that standard boxes hold either 90 or 180. (Yes, this is based on a true story.)

I miss wondering what my teacher would be like, and how long it would take him/her to realize I was the smartest kid in the class. If I’d already attended the school, couple days max. If it was a new school, or college, a week or two. No longer than the first test. I apologize to those of you who attended school with me; my aim was to prove I was the smartest one. In my defense, I willingly provided pre-class review sessions on quiz days. (My rising tide lifted all boats. And that was my good deed for…ever.)

I miss watching my mom cover my textbooks in brown paper. The private schools I attended hoped to use their textbooks until the Second Coming, so those things had to be protected with all the force a grocery bad could muster. Luckily for me, my mom is a wizard at anything that involves wrapping in paper. I have her do my presents to people whenever possible. Maybe it’s an Asian thing. Maybe this is how China is going to beat us. I dunno.

I miss owning a protractor. And having reason to use it. And remembering what a protractor does.

What do you miss?

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