Oh Labor Day, How do I Hate Thee?

I'm a teacher.  I've been teaching a long time.  This will mark the start of my 25th year as an educator.  (Only 7 more to go!)  And I think I can speak for every teacher in America whose school year starts after Labor Day when I say, boy do I hate Labor Day.  It's not that I hate my job, or the kids, or paper work, or the Common Core, or getting up early, or that school smell, or cafeteria duty.  Well, to be honest, I do hate cafeteria duty.  But I really have nothing to be depressed about.  The kids have always been pretty good to me, and since I teach 11th and 12th graders, they kind of get me, and discipline isn't that much of an issue.  I love my subject matter (Social Studies), and I rarely get any hassle from the Administration who treat me quite well.  Soooo, what's my friggin' problem?

Well that's a good question.  It might just be the change in routine.  If your like me, (and for your sake I sure hope so) any change in routine can cause me great stress.  I have a very tight routine in the morning that cannot withstand any variance.  Sometimes my wife or kids will change their routine and run into my designated "spots" in the morning, this totally disorients me.  If my wife comes downstairs and stands in my "lunch making station" for more than lets say, a minute, it can potentially result in me going to work without my pants on.   Once my routine  makes the adjustment from summer leisure,  to work intensity, I usually go about my business without an inordinate amount of stress.  This doesn't mean however that it's some sort of  a cakewalk to June.  I still need to maintain my edge throughout the school year.  How do I do this you ask?

• Never go out of the house after 8pm Sunday-Thursday.  For any reason.  Sit home, stare at the wall, think about all of the terrible things that can happen, that way if something terrible does happen, you can say, "I knew that was going to happen".
• Have the coffee made at night, your clothes laid out for the morning, (Especially if you are a fashionista like myself.  So many tough choices....let's see, red shirt with Khakis, blue shirt with khakis, white shirt with blue pants...what to wear, what to wear?) be in bed by 11, watch 20 minutes of "The Daily Show",  go to sleep, if you wake up in the morning, start it all over again.
• Hope the Jets win, this makes going to work on Monday far more palatable.  Unfortunately, given the Jets track record, this is a frustratingly rare occurrence.

When I think back to the beginning of my career, It's  really absurd that I should have any concerns at all regarding the new school year.  When I first broke into  teaching back in 1989 in good old J.H.S. 204 in Long Island City, better known as Oliver Wendell Holmes, I had never even student taught.  I don't want to say the city wasn't too particular in those days, but apparently they hired me based on my pulse and my ability to walk upright.  I interviewed in May, never heard another word until the last week in August when they told me that if I wanted the job, I would be starting the day after Labor Day, and that I wouldn't be paid for six weeks.  When I asked why, the Principal, Dr. Zill, who had just turned 107 said, "You must understand Mr. Hoffman, at the Board of Ed., the wheels grind slowly".  I hoped my landlord could relate to this concept.  

My first three classes on opening day went pretty well, although the flop-sweat was literally dripping down my back.  One young man during homeroom asked me if I was new, when I said yes he said, "Don't worry, we're nice".  He was right, what a great kid.  The afternoon classes however were lower functioning groups, and they weren't what I or anyone would call, "academically oriented".  I couldn't even get them line up to come into the room, and I could barely keep them in their seats.  As I was walking through the rows trying to show them I wasn't intimidated, they started grabbing my pants as I walked by.    Yes...my pants!!!!  The icing on the cake though was when I was standing in the hallway in between classes and a young "lady" and I locked eyes, a rookie mistake for an experienced subway rider like myself.  All of sudden as she walked past she said in her fawn like manner, "What the Fuck are you lookin' at"?  My comeback consisted of scraping my jaw off the floor, walking back into my room,   and collapsing into the fetal position.

In many ways, teachers never stop being that first year teacher, trying to survive and keep the command of the class without losing who you are.  When you're a first year teacher, a successful week can be defined as leaving on a  Friday, and showing up on Monday the following week.  As long as you keep coming back, you're doing alright.  I've heard some teacher's say (half-kiddingly) that this would be a good job if it wasn't for the kids.  I don't agree with that sentiment, however, it would be nice if my students could just appreciate how interesting the "Grange Movement" was!