Friday, August 14, 2009

Those Mythic August Mornings

Picking up dry cleaning and takeout breakfast shouldn't involve detailed planning. On the first day back for students in Metro Nashville Schools, it's a necessity, because school zones rule the roads of Nashville during rush hour. And schools are everywhere in this burg.

We all remember the disappointment of losing summer, a feeling that set in for me the day after my birthday. That artificial countdown came with scheduling, new clothes that assured crude comments from the cool crowd, and anxieties about the new year. I stared at the ceiling much of the night before 10 grade started; space constraints in Mentor kept ninth-graders at the junior high school. The first days in Georgia are just vague traces of drop-offs from my dad on his way to work. But he dropped me off every day, leading grades 2-5 blur together.

I still remember that last first day, navigating the quiet streets of Mentor not long after sunrise as the thought dawned on me that it was the final time. It's doubtful I would remember any detail of that day otherwise, but suddenly the day's events open vividly. For first period, I chatted with Marje after Mr. Lorek ran through his syllabus. We were not yet the friends we would become during the school year. I would catch her again late in the day for AP Biology and a reunion with Mr. Woodman (not the Welcome Back, Kotter principal).

Before classes started, I stopped in on Mr. Young, my 11th grade English teacher and probably the biggest single reason I ended up in writing. I heard he's fighting lung cancer now, which would be sadder if I could forget how much he smoked. But his influence on my makes it sad enough. I can't say I would fondly recall Ms. Geissler in the same way - despite being one of the few students who actually read our assignments it was basically she and I conversing about Crime and Punishment), she spent the entire year referring to me as "George." Nice.

Most shocking of all is these memories spilling out of my brain's recesses. I never recount those days, but in one swoop, it all rushed back. Now, I'm like any other commuter, rearranging my daily calendar to avoid the buses and school zones.

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