It’s that unmistakable time of year when school has started. After a miserably hot, humid summer in Baltimore, we suddenly had a few crisp days in late August. Now that September is over, leaves are turning. Mornings have that cool, approaching autumn feel to them. I love this time of year.
I remember my Grandma saying, “There is never an autumn that I don’t feel like I should be going back to school.”It’s like that for me, too. I had a larger dose of school than she did, though I doubt I’m any better educated. I have spent most of my life in school as a student as a teacher, and as a professor working to prepare teachers. It is a great place to spend your life.
Every fall begins a new cycle. Now as I see my granddaughter off to school, I wonder what the day holds for her. I think of so many children like her who shared a school year with me when I taught in elementary school. I wonder about them, where they are, if life has been kind to them. I wonder if they, too, feel the call of school when the leaves begin to turn. I wonder if any of them are spending their lives as teachers.
