I love back to school season.
I’m excited for the new school year of opportunities that await everyone, but especially for our nephews and niece, my friends’ kids and my friends who are teachers.
I have fond back to school memories. Some that aren’t so stellar, too, but they don’t outweigh the good.
I went to university to be a teacher, but it didn’t pan out. For a few reasons, and neither because I was flunking out for those of you who like to sit behind your screens and criticize me.
Sometimes, I sit and think about the possibility that it could have become. I don’t dwell on it, though. I have no idea what my life would be like now if I had continued going to Roberts or if I had picked it back up here in Ontario (which would’ve been a heavy lift considering the classes I missed). But I was also undiagnosed neurodivergent at the time, so it would’ve likely been another academic spiral.
Even though I never became a teacher, I still love the start of the school year.
There’s something hopeful about it, even when I’m only watching it unfold from the sidelines.