I’m having a, “I CAN’T KEEP CALM, I’M A TEACHER AND SEPTEMBER STARTS TOMORROW!” sort of moment.

It’s been a hell of a week, this week of constant meetings and classroom prep and meetings and more classroom prep and cleaning and meetings and trying to figure out lesson plans and meetings and even more classroom prep still to come and oh my gosh did I mention the meetings? Or the classroom prep?

Surely you can sense by my tone that I’m rather frayed at the edges. I have some significant changes to my assignment(s) this year, and they’re all really exciting changes, but, they’re changes nonetheless. That means there’s adjustment, and a lot of work and planning and consideration to how it all will come together. I am sure all teachers feel like this, that they would always want more time to prepare, that truly “feeling prepared” is not a realistic expectation for ourselves. I think I’ve written and rewritten and yet again rewritten the same to-do lists at least half a dozen times. Things are definitely getting checked off said lists, thankfully. (And yes, I am the kind of person who will add a previously unlisted item to my list, just so I can check it off! It’s satisfying.)

This summer has flown by, and I could very easily fret that September is literally tomorrow and wallow in the “I’m not ready!” blues. But I’m going to attempt to follow a different track tonight. I’m going to try to do something that anyone with PTSD struggles with.

I’m going to try to stay utterly, fully in the present tonight.

For someone with a brain colored by a lifetime of trauma, someone with the heel of one foot almost permanently wedged in the back door of her psyche, the irony of this idea is hysterical to me (in a sad, sardonic way). But I think it’s a worthwhile exercise. I could absolutely lean into the stress of all the unknowns ahead of me, all the strain of my anxiety over the things that need doing tomorrow and over the weekend, but it wouldn’t do me any good. In fact, it would be paralyzing and therefore quite counterproductive. Right now, in spite of all the panic that is zooming around inside of me, my approach must be to just stay rooted, stay grounded, and know that I will continue tomorrow to put one foot in front of the other.

Tomorrow is September, and it will be yet another headless chicken sort of day. But tonight – tonight it is still August, and I’m going to soak up the eight month’s last minutes while I have them. Even while I can almost literally feel them slipping through my fingers, I will take the time to appreciate the flow of time like rivulets of water, passing along, moving on to their next phase. So, too, will I follow suit soon enough. Soon…but not tonight.

(Admittedly, perhaps there’s nothing like a pre-school year armed shooter preparedness training session to remind you to appreciate the time you do have while you have it. But I digress.)