The Worst Of All Sundays

All of you who are joining me (or are soon joining me) returning to school know that the day before school starts is the worst day. Ever. It's worse than the day your dog died. It's worse than the day you found out that hottie gave you a fake number. It's worse than the day that your roommate pissed in your sock drawer.

You know how everyone has the Sunday Blues? That time on a Sunday when you realize that you have to return to work? That's the feeling we get. Only it's worse. Way worse. It's like the worst Sunday you ever had.

It's a lot like that Sunday where you had that out of state wedding that you gleefully traveled too Friday afternoon. You know the one. The one where you woke up far later than you had planned with a hangover the size of a pre-Subway Jared next to one of your best friends and not that cute bridesmaid. Then, because you got up so late, you missed the breakfast, got a late start and didn't leave near as early as you needed to in order to get the full Sunday unwind in. You then booted out the window on the ride home due to your buddies herky-jerky driving in traffic that was so dense that you got home too late to grocery shop for the week and thus, had nothing for breakfast or lunch on Monday. And because of the fact that you finished that bottle of Grey Goose and then had a travel agenda similar to the one Steve Martin and John Candy had in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, you're so goddman tired you need another weekend. And to top it all off, you forgot to DVR Entourage.

The day before school is just like that Sunday. Only it's actually worse than that Sunday. Imagine you had a rectal examine that Sunday night too and then maybe, maybe we could talk comparison.

Those of you in education know what I'm talking about.

And while those of you NOT in education are snickering right now and telling me to suck it up and quit whining (By the way, my boy Hayes thinks teachers are overpaid. I'll send you his email address if you want to fire vitriolic comments his way), I'm here to tell you that on this day, your job is way, WAY better than mine.

September is just another month for you. In fact, it's probably kind of a good one. You have fond memories of returning to college, where you had as much responsibility as a house cat. Football starts for you meatballs and with it comes your precious fantasy football draft. The heat and humidity have gone away, and so too have your kids, which, given the prices of child care, might provide you with a windfall between fifteen and forty-five thousand dollars (if you are sending your child off to school for the first time). Tons of new music gets released, Red Sox playoff baseball begins, and you non-educators move into the time of year where it is YOU who actually get some time off.

And because of your lives as non-teachers (solid, solid decision by the way), you will never know the experience of the night before school begins.

The feeling in my stomach is almost indescribable. Every year, I try going to bed early, only to toss and turn and think about all it is I have to do before I finally decide to wake up at 1:47 and see what movie is on HBO (Fight Club). The more you teach, the more you realize that going back to school really isn't a big deal and in three weeks time, it will be back to business as usual. But it's just the THOUGHT of going back to school that is the killer on this, the night before I have to return to work.

For returning to my job means that there are no more Tuesday night's playing trivia. No more enjoying the ENTIRE Sox game as they play past 1 AM in Seattle on a Thursday. No more lazy Wednesday (or for me, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, AND Wednesday) mornings reading the paper over a cup of coffee at Diesel with only the parking meter to worry about. No more drunken texts with Steve Wall where we quote lines from Pulp Fiction (or Top Gun, or Talledega Nights) at 3:30am as we simultaneously watch said pictures on 203 or 326. No more concerts on a random Monday... Wait, that won't change. I'll just have to get up at six with a hangover instead of at one with a hangover. No more sitting in the sun on a Tuesday morning or shopping on Newbury on Friday at 10:30am. No more fun.

Now, I know that I should be happy to even have this opportunity for eight weeks every summer. I get to relive the adult equivalent of the days we spent playing wiffle ball and water polo (standing was allowed of course) as kids. But in the waning days of August, the trade off isn't even worth it, for there is nothing worse than the dark cloud of a new school year that hangs over us the second we see our first back to school commercial (fuck you Staples). Because do you, Mr. and Ms. Non Educator, know how much you hate Sunday nights? Well, you've only been away for work from two days and you don't want to go back. Try being away from work two MONTHS and then knowing you have to go back. It sure ain't good.

Take your Sunday Blues and multiply them by a billion kagallion and you have some idea of how we educators feel.

Every fall, I try to be positive about the season that brings Halloween (can't wait for the worthless Halloween blog) and Thanksgiving, but I cannot. Molly tried, but after one wake up, her attempts to bring me to Team Positivity failed. While The Shipyard Pumpkin is the best, it cannot offset the horror that is hearing that first ridiculous gripe from a student. You know, the same one you've heard for twelve years now, only out of a different mouth.

There are plenty of good things about teaching (scroll up four paragraphs and re-read) and plenty of bad things (the sheer volume of idiotic people who somehow decided to choose the same profession as I selected). But there is really nothing worse than the First Day Of School Eve (there should be a name for this- Hell Night sounds appropriate or maybe Day of Suck). And like I said, in no time, it'll be business as usual, but that doesn't allay my dread on this night. Just two months ago, I was celebrating my annual Summer of Gerard and that seems like just two hours ago. And in that same span of time, it will be the end of October and then before I know it, I'll be celebrating the annual Christmas Vacation. It'll all go by quickly and painlessly, but those words ring hollow right now, don't they fellow educators?

But on this night- the night before smiling cherubs bearing awful movie tastes and the occassional minging breath arrive at my door- all of you lucky non teachers have it easy. You'll sleep soundly, knowing that tomorrow is just another Wednesday. Just another hump day. Just another night of Bones, Criminal Minds, and Americas Next Top Model. I'd do anything to be in your shoes.

And so when you non-teachers are cursing me on a Tuesday night in July for keeping you out far too late, know that you've got your revenge tonight. And then some.