This morning I had to set an alarm so I'd wake up in time to get to some adjunct faculty and committee meetings at UVU, where classes start next week. My head is swirling with bits and pieces I need to incorporate as I update my syllabus.
When my meetings ended, I met up with Jack at the junior high open house. We found his locker, met all his teachers, and picked up a new gym uniform. (Where last year's ended up is a complete mystery.) Tonight we're setting an alarm so we'll wake up in time to get him to school for his first day of eighth grade.
We've basically gone from zero to sixty in one day as we transition from summertime.
I loved this time of year when I was growing up. (Of course, we didn't actually start school until September, after Labor Day, which is eminently more civilized than facing it the third week in August.) The first day of school was always exciting, and I reveled in the sense of having a fresh start with all sorts of unknown adventure ahead.
Jack mostly doesn't see it the same way. But I do think he's a teeny bit excited. At least about playing the saxaphone in band. That'll have to do.