So here it is, the day after Labor Day. It is an important holiday in that it is one of the few to recognize the contributions of the average American worker, but for anyone who has ever been a part of the American school system, it also signals the official start of the new school year. Of course, in my neighborhood, as in many, schools have been back in session for a few weeks and high school and college football are re-ensconced in their sacred spots. But no matter how much earlier you push the start date, it is the Labor Day last hurrah that indicates the year has started in earnest.
On Labor Day I went over to Woody’s to pick up some hot dogs, my own last hurrah before my next Weight Watchers weigh in. I saw clusters of kids headed to Wave-Tec for the last swim of the summer before the pools officially close. Marilla Park in nearby Morgantown, marks this last day with a swim with your dog event. Yes, good-bye summer, welcome fall.
I’ve always been lucky enough to live in West Virginia where there is a virtual panorama of seasonal change. I’ve often wondered if people who live in perpetually warm climates have the same perception of the passing of time, or if seasons—and age—just surreptitiously creep up on them.
School pictures mark the passage of time with sometimes humiliating visual acuity. January 1 may mark the beginning of the new year for adults, but for kids, and anyone involved in the school system, it is that first day of school that really marks the milestone. If you’re in school, it’s all about September. Some years are monumental—elementary to middle school, middle school to high school, high school to college or the workforce. But, every year is a fresh start.
Sure there is the academic aspect of looking at your schedule for the year, finding out who you have classes with, scoping out your teachers to see if all the rumors you have heard about their reputations (bitch, pushover, loon or winner) are true. But academics can wait till after Labor Day. The first day back is the day that you establish your image for the year. You present the self you have spent the summer reinventing. The first day you see strategically planned outfits, buff bods, great tans, streaked hair, contacts replacing glasses, new cars paid for with endless shifts at Mickey D’s. That first day is the ultimate selfie of the year, the ultimate optimism that this will be your best year ever.
I’ll be honest. After teaching for almost 40 years and starting each year with that same sense of optimism and gratitude for a fresh start, my first year of retirement was difficult. I watched the buses roll past the house and felt a little empty that I was on the sidelines of the excitement. This is the fourth year school has started just fine without me. I’ve settled into the retiree world of morning water aerobics classes, long lunches with friends, mid-afternoon movies, all the things you never had time to do when you were working. I now know that September replaces the summer blockbusters with more contemplative movies that might be Oscar nominees. It provides cooler weather for yard work and winterizing tasks. It allows you to schedule medical appointments without regard to how quickly you can get there after school to avoid taking a sick day.
September may no long hold the excitement of walking into a new class in new year, but it still reinforces the passage of time. In fact, when you’re not bound to a strict schedule, I’ve come believe that almost every day can be a fresh start. But what do I know. I’m just a spinster with cats.