Michael Myers in a Mat Man shirt, holding a box of crayons

It’s coming.  The end of summer.  The end of lazidacial mornings of drinking coffee on the porch in my pajamas with the dog at my feet.  Orientation is around the corner.

Whether you are entering the school doors for the first time or the 12th time, first day anxiety is creeping its way into your head like a bad 80s horror character.  

I like to picture my first day anxiety anthropomorphically, like Michael Myers with a Mat Man shirt on holding a box of crayons.  Chi chi chi, wah wah wah. He sits on my shoulder, like DeadPool on the overpass, coloring an IEP calendar. I ask, he answers.

Wonder what the caseload is going to be like this year?

Comparable to planning a trip to the hairy edge of Saturn

From under what hellish mountain of paperwork will I be shoveling this year?

Somewhere in height between K-2 and Everest

How will I get everything done?

By medicating

How many times will my schedule change? 

If a train is traveling at 80 mph and 30 people are walking in the opposite direction, how many cats would it take to fill the Lake Eerie?

Do I need a swear jar at work? 

Probably

When will I have lunch?

Whenever you damn well please, as long as you can eat it under 3.2 seconds

Don’t get me wrong. I love what I do.  I love my students. I love my co-workers.  But I still struggle with making each year manageable.  So now that I have completed my masters, I want to get back to writing.  It helps me process the day to day quirkiness that is school-based therapy.  

The work-wife (I’ll get into that in a later post) and I thought we would do a podcast about topics, trials, and tribulation of how to survive school-based service provision.  But for now, I think I will start here. Any maybe, just maybe you will come for the ride. Check out the scenery, share your experiences, or just nod your head in solidarity.