Happy September! I’m so excited for fall, really, I am. Yet there is something about August’s end that gets me every time. It always seems to come too quickly and at exactly the time when summer feels like it’s just beginning. Except it’s not.
Somewhere deep inside I’m certain that this 8th month of the year evokes in me feelings from my childhood and what I considered to be those dreaded back to school days, a dread set in motion in the first grade when I was traumatized by an evil, out of control Franciscan nun.
After a terrifying experience like her, I dreaded ever having to go back to that school again. But of course, I did and the same drill would occur every August’s end – my siblings and I trooping over to the grade school prior to the start of classes to find out who our new teacher would be. We would fret the two blocks it took us to reach the school gymnasium, where, we knew whether we liked it or not we would get the answers we were looking for.
Unfortunately, my first grade experience served as an accurate barometer for what was to come the next seven years. A tough posse of nuns ruled the hallways and ran the grammar school I attended, so chances were better than good that at least three of my five siblings (one of which would inevitably be me) would get stuck with a “mean one.” Makes me laugh today (nervously :)) but we sure weren’t laughing back then.