The First Day

3:00 AM.   Wake up. Involuntarily. Peer over at alarm clock, set for 4:45. Am I really going to be a teacher? What the hell am I doing? Certainly not the last time I would ask myself the latter question. OK, take some deep breaths. Go back to sleep. I need to be well-rested for the first day.

4:45 AM.   Alarm goes off. This induces the odd thought combination of Thank god! and Holy shit! Naturally, not a wink of sleep occurred between initially waking up and when the alarm sounded.

Get up, shower, get dressed. Feeling awfully like a girl, I try to pick out the most appropriate shirt out of my collection. One that says, "Yes, I'm a teacher," but also one that doesn't pinhole me into "traditional, boring teacher" status. Here's to overthinking a (in retrospect) trivial part of my day.

Head out at about 5:15 to drive down to school to meet my mentor, JT, for a pre-school breakfast and (hopefully) nerve-calming pep-talk. A quick note on the mentoring program. For the first two years of my career at this school, JT will be my mentor, which means he is a confidential resource for me, there to answer any sort of question and generally act as a guide until I get my feet under me at the school.

5:30 AM.   Quite poetically, there is an absolutely gorgeous sunrise I get to witness during the drive in.

6:00 AM.   JT and his buddy (a teacher in a different district) join me for some breakfast. Nerves have removed all of our appetites. This is JT's 8th school year teaching, and his friend's 4th. Yet they claim they get nerves at the start of the first day too. I manage to squeeze down half a bagel with cream cheese. And I opt for coffee. Why I chose a cup of joe, I'm not quite sure. I've never been a coffee drinker - saving it only for pulling all-nighters in college and the occasional "I really need a caffeine kick in the butt." Certainly I was in no need of a jolt that day.

7:00 AM.   Arrive at school. I get there and ask JT, "OK, so now what do I do?" Basically just walk around and wait for the 7:30 bell. My department chair asks if I would like her to join my first class to help smooth over the inevitable bumps. I decline, reasoning that it'd be better to establish myself as the leader of the classroom than having to lean on her.

7:30 AM.   The bell rings. Of the 24 students in front of me, there isn't one smile. My nerves are in check. I can feel the anxiety, but it's far from overwhelming. For the moment. I begin my spiel welcoming them back to school and introducing myself.

7:32 AM.   Interrupted by the principal on the PA system asking all teachers to hold off starting class and to help lost students find their way from the hallways to their respective classrooms. I sigh, and exit the room to the hallway, meeting other teachers. They ask about my nerves. This pause in the action allows my nerves to ... I wouldn't say "settle", per se... more like the exact opposite. What the hell did I get myself into?

7:35 AM.   Return to class, and the daily announcements begin with the Pledge of Allegiance. Having been out of the country for two years, and out of public school since 1992, I feel awfully odd hearing the PoA. Not sure how comfortable I feel pledging along. But do I need to? Is it appropriate for me to do that? Is it wrong for me to just stand here silently? What kind of example am I setting? are the kinds of unanswerable questions which run through my head in a matter of seconds.

8:23 AM.   First period ends. Phew. Now I gotta go through that again.

8:27 AM.   Repeat the spiel from Period 1, with some slight modifications to my intro. Make the same jokes (hey, stick with what works): when trying to kill some time, ask the students what they did over the summer, and tell them their answers must be school-appropriate, not (changing voice into high school jock mimickery), "Dude, I got wasted everyday and it was awwwesome." That one got chuckles in each class.

9:19 AM.   Period 3 begins. My department chair walks in and introduces one student, let's call him Kieth, in particular. He looks - as most of them do - completely disinterested in school. Turns out Kieth is the school's star athlete, and a major head-case, with a penchant for giving a hard time to inexperienced male teachers (all this I find out afterwards).

9:34 AM.   Kieth stands up and starts to walk around. I approach him and ask him where he's going. He states he wants to sit somewhere else. I say, "No, stay there." Not that I really care where he sits, but I recognize that it's not a good idea to have a student think he can call the shots. I think. Am I sure this is what I should do? Nope. But gotta stick with this course of action now anyway...
"Why?"
"I'm asking you to sit down in your seat, please."
I see the thought process in his head: How far do I want to push it now? Am I going to listen or continue to do what I want? He chooses the former option, and says, "Fine, whatever. You're the teacher."
My heart is racing a thousand beats a minute.
"Thank you."
And I return to my introductory spiel. I wonder if the other students have any idea how hard and fast my heart is beating. (Still, to this day, I have no clue.)

10:11 AM.   Period 4. By now, having given my introduction 3 times, gone through my expectations for the class 3 times, asked students what they did over the summer 3 times, did my "wasted" mimickery 3 times, explained that I lived in Japan for the past year 3 times, proved it my speaking Japanese 3 times, my comfort level is back down to only slightly elevated (Homeland Security color code yellow).
I ask my fourth period class about their previous math teachers. Ask them what things made them - in their eyes - good math teachers or poor ones. One smart ass replies, "Oh, I really liked Ms. Soandso."
"Oh yea? Why?"
"Well, for one thing, she was really hot."
Still feeling a bit amped, I reply, "Oh well, I'm sorry I don't have that same effect on you." I paused. "Or maybe I do, and, y'know, that's cool too."
A fleeting thought crosses my mind wondering where the line of "appropriate" conversation is, and whether I just crossed it. Oh well, too late now. Just gotta keep on chuggin.

10:59 AM.   Lunch time. This break allows me a moment to catch my breath. Once I have caught it, and my adrenaline stops pumping furiously, I have a conversation with the principal. He asks how my first day is going. Clearly my facial expression and sigh prompt him to say, "You know, it's been my opinion for a long time that first-year teachers should have to work one day, then get a week off so they can recuperate before going back into the classroom." Amen.

11:25 AM.   I'm eating with JT and some other teachers and quickly realize that all of my teachers - no matter what face they put on in front of us students - say some seriously school-inappropriate things behind closed doors.
Exhibit A: One woman, who is in her mid-50s, is talking about how the sprinkler system set up outside has occasionally, throughout the morning, sprayed her in the face through the window. Another (also in her 50s) asks, "Wow, so it's the first day of school, and you're already getting wet?"
It's all downhill from there.

1:20 PM.   After another uneventful introduction to my 6th period class, my day is over. I have last period off, so I head back to my desk and crash. Emotionally, I am completely fried. I walk around the halls a bit, and a veteran teacher semi-rhetorically asks me, "So, are you coming back tomorrow?" I gasp. Wait, you mean I have to do this again??? Realizing that I have no real options, I smile and reply. "Yep!" Seriously though, what the hell did I get myself into?

2:00 PM.   The end-of-the-day bell rings, and the students file out. After a bit, I speak with JT and ask, "So what the hell am I supposed to do tomorrow?" (Clearly, I'm very prepared.) We walk through my lesson plans for each of my classes, and I eventually file out of school, completely exhausted, at 3:00.

4:10 PM.   Arrive home.

4:15 PM.   On my couch, unconscious. Dead to the world. A freight train could have come through my front door and I would have stayed asleep.

7:30 PM.   Make some dinner. All the while, repeating to myself, What the hell did I get myself into?

9:30 PM.   Out cold. No trouble sleeping this night. (Though I still wake up the next morning an hour before my alarm is to go off. I reason that I'll consider myself accustomed to the job once I wake up to the alarm and curse it, saying, "It's time to get up already??" That took a couple weeks.)

1 day down, 179 to go.