Back to school

The start of the school year will forever tote in nostalgic thoughts. I remember my uncle telling me years ago that to this day, in his late 30s at the time, he still gets that anxious, butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling at the end of summer as he is mentally transported back to those first day of school nerves. And as a middle schooler listening to him reflect on those memories, I of course laughed it off, thinking that day would never come for me.

And of course, it did. Here I am, the second September after college graduation, and I see a school bus pass or hear the playground noises before I even see the swings, and immediately, I'm brought back.

School takes up such a huge part of growing up. It is growing up. I don't have many lucid memories of my life before preschool, so in essence, my life has been shaped by teachers and books and chalkboards. I was relieved and very ready to graduate, but as the weather begins to turn crisp and I catch a glimpse of an old literature collection resting on my bookshelf that I didn't have the heart to sell back at the end of the semester, I can't help but miss it all. To be in a place without as much daily structure and such a different type of responsibility is something I'm still trying to wrap my head around.

The AP Exchange had a story today stating that this year, more parents are leaving kids at home while they go back-to-school shopping on their own to save money and, I would guess, time. While I understand the shopping experience would be less combative and potentially cheaper sans the little guys, I just felt sad for the kids who missed out. There was something about those school shopping trips that brought so much excitement. I looked forward to it every year, driving out with my mom and sister to Target and Office Max in search of colorful new folders and notebooks without any creases and packets of mechanical pencils. It was a ritual I relied on to launch the new year off right. Sure, there were tugs of war with my mom, wrestling for the nicer backpack but meeting her halfway with the discount lunch box. But I think my mom enjoyed the outing just as much as my sister and me. It was an excuse to do something together, to dole out advice and re-tell old school experiences. And my sister and I were all ears, eating up every bit of it, because we knew that despite as brave as we might be acting, we wouldn't be able to face those first-day jitters without hearing from a pro.