Ah, the winter holiday. A time for family, friends, and for teachers, a chance to rest and recover in a way that resembles a giant mammal in hibernation.
The return back to school can be jarring, and in my case I realized my brain went into full-on reset mode, wiped of all memory as if I’d been paid a visit by Tommy Lee Jones and his neuralyzer from Men in Black (linked for those of you who don’t remember the 90s).
Here are some things I realized I’d completely forgotten.
1) The food storage containers, empty caffeine vessels, and other trash in the back seat of my car.
Hello, old friends. Definitely thought I’d be clearing you out before we met again.
2) What it is, exactly, that I use my computer for.
Has the district screen background always been this blue? How’d I get so many things on my desktop? Where do I click to get started? What am I even doing?
3) To reset any of my 2,183 alarms.
Sorry, students. None of y’all are getting dismissed on time. And no, I will not explain any of my alarm emojis.
4) All the passwords.
My district password, even though I assured myself on December 23rd that I definitely didn’t need to write it down. The copier pin number. My NoRedInk password that I had to make a different password from all my other passwords because I forgot it LAST JANUARY.
5) How to write an email in under 45 minutes.
Do I say “dear” when writing to this parent? Is that weird? Is she going to group text her other friends and to compare friendliness of salutations? Is it “dear” or “deer”?
6) How unfair real clothes are.
And do my work pants just feel tight because I haven’t worn them all break, or are they actually snug because at one point during break I ate 18 gingersnaps in a 24-hour period? We’ll never know.
7) The LOUDNESS of school.
There is no way the morning bell has always been this loud. Impossible.
8) Needing to put my physical needs on a bell schedule.
Sorry, biological urges. You’ll have to wait between 1 and 4 hours (or longer if the urge is to take off my underwire bra and stomp on it).
9) To take home or water that adorable classroom plant you were gifted.
10) That the little ones—even if they’re 18 years old—are actually excited to see me again.
11) To grade literally anything.
(But this one doesn’t count because I forgot it on purpose.)