One night last week I fell asleep at 5:30 in the evening and slept straight through until the next morning. My dreams were all nightmares: deep-seated fears finally brought to the sub-conscious. In my dreams, it was the first day of school. My classes had 50 kids in them. None of them had materials. I had no books. I'd made no lesson plans. I couldn't get the kids organized and that was the day my administrator walked in to administer my annual evaluation. All of the fears and anxieties I had about starting a new school year manifested themselves in a series of vignettes in which I was basically fed to the wolves. My career was in question and I was left to wonder if I really had what it took to try and change kids' lives one more time.

Dreams are funny things. Most of the time mine are vague and non-descript. People rarely have faces, although I know who they are. But in my "pre-school" dreams, everything is detailed. I can feel textures, see facial expressions, distinguish colors. People appear three-dimensional. Their voices are clear and diverse.

These dreams are the best for me. It's like my mind has finally purged itself of worry. By dealing with it in my dreams, I am no longer left to deal with it in real life. These dreams are exhausting, but I wake feeling rejuvinated and my mind is clear.

Today was the first day of school. All of the things I'd worried about didn't happen.

In fact, as usual, my kids were wonderful.

I don't know what makes me anxious about what I do. Maybe I know oh so well how critically important my role is in these kids' development.

I don't want to let them down.

I don't want to give them a chance to give up on themselves.

And so I worry.

I worry myself sick about doing enough and being the person they need me to be.

My payback?

Seeing them graduate, one at a time, year after year, knowing I had a small part to play in their success.

But the education system is getting more stringent. A great deal of the creative energy and fun I felt for my job is rapidly being taken away by micro-management and government bureaucracy.

To stay optimistic in the light of this reality can be a challenge.

But today was a red-letter day. Today, I stood before more than 150 kids and explained to them my expectations and offered them assurances that each one of them could reach them.

They listened and now I believe we have an understanding with each other.

I love my job.

I love my kids.

I love how my life makes sense when I'm at school learning and growing. And I'm so glad that all of my concerns were unfounded. I always have to worry if "this" will be the year that will break me, and I'm happy to say I think it's missed me one more time.

tags: achivement, expectations, new beginnings, optimism, school, success

For many people, the holidays are their favorite time of the year. I enjoy Christmas too, but it's not my favorite time of the year. Believe it or not, the weeks before school are my favorite. They always have been.

I'm sure my mother has a lot to do with this. As a small child, she made a big deal out of going to buy a new dress for the first day of school, a new pair of shoes, a new backpack, pencil box and the ever popular, box of crayons. (Although I never got the 64 pack and had to envy the kids who did). When I think of school, I can close my eyes and smell the waxy, unused crayons, remember what my Big Chief tablet used to feel like totally unmarked, and can feel the weight of my Holly Hobby or Strawberry Shortcake lunchbox in my hand.

My mother made a big deal out of the first day of school. She would wake my brothers and I up early, fix us a big breakfast, help me with my hair, and then line us up in front of the fireplace for a "first day of school" picture. In all of these pictures I am smiling from ear to ear, lunchbox in hand, wearing my backpack and new clothes, and frantically wishing it was time to go so I could meet my new teacher.

In elementary school, my mother would walk me to school and hand in hand, we would go in to meet the teacher. Some of them scared me, but others made me feel so welcome, I just knew the excitement I was feeling at that moment would carry me through the next nine months.

As I prepare to begin my 11th year in the classroom, I realize how little things have changed. I looked all summer for the "perfect" first day of school outfit, and finally found it. I have spent the last week going through the back-to-school sales buying materials for my classroom. And I find myself waking up each morning with a growing sense of anticipation.

As a student, I used to worry about my teachers liking me. Students don't realize that teachers have that same anxiety. Will I be able to help all of my kids? Will they get all they can out of the material I am trying to teach them? Will I be able to show my students how much potential they have and how much the world needs their gifts? Will they leave my class feeling better about themselves? Will my class be their favorite? What can I do to be more creative, more inspiring, more relevant? And on and on it goes.

I am in my element. This time of the year reminds me fully of my purpose in this life and affords me an opportunity to share my love of learning with hundreds of people at a time.

Each time I smell a new box of crayons or see a little kid walking around with a backpack larger than he is, I realize how truly blessed I am. I continue to be reminded why this, more than any other, is my favorite time of the year.

tags: achievement, anticipation, education, excitement, memories, school