School is a battlefield

The past few mornings, I've been awake early, my mind buzzing with all the things I need to accomplish before school starts. Most of my tasks are mental -- how many classroom jobs do I want to have? What will our morning routine look like? -- and some of them are physical, like going to Staples to laminate my number line and gathering all the supplies I've accumulated and packed in around my apartment over the summer, like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the fall.

This morning, when the soon-to-be Mr. Brave asked why I was up so early, I told him it was because I was getting nervous. Mr. Brave served in the Army, and I asked him if he had ever been nervous in Iraq.

"No," he said. "I just remembered my training. I had men underneath me who were scared, so I couldn't be scared."

There are those who like to draw the analogy that teaching is like going to war (you know, with teachers being on the "front lines" and all that), and so this morning I suited up in my panda slippers (because it sure feels like fall) and decided it's the same for me: I'll have students underneath me who are scared, so I can't be scared. I just have to remember my training.

And the wackiness, of course.