My two-plus months of living like a French duke and/or welfare queen have come to an end.  Yours portly returns to the salt mines of secondary education today.  Classes won’t start back until Monday, 19 August 2024, but teachers reports back today for the usual bout of annual trainings, AFLAC representatives, handbook excursions, etc.

[UPDATE:  due to Hurricane/Tropical Storm Debby, we won’t report back until Monday, 12 August 2024—whoa!  But I’m still going to grouse about going back to work.  —TPP]

I’ve never quite understood why we report back on a Thursday, when we could easily cover all of this foolishness in a day or two of meetings the following week.  It seems like a way to deprive us of one, final, long weekend before the drudgery returns.

To be frank, I am not much looking forward to this school year—a sadly common refrain from yours portly the past few years.  Our enrollment is way down, which will bring with it all sorts of austerity measures and demands for teachers to sacrifice more time and energy for the good of the school.

Last year was absolutely brutal, and while I’m always cautiously optimistic, I am having a hard time talking myself into a good attitude this year.  Perhaps simply getting back into a rhythm will be its own reward.

With that, here is 3 August 2023’s “TBT^4: Back to the Grind 202[3]“:

All things must come to an end.  That includes sleeping in, taking naps, and being well-rested.

Yes, it’s sad, but true:  the endless freedom and fun of summer is over, at least for yours portly.  Today, I am back at work.

I’ve noted before how the return date for teachers seems to inch earlier and earlier into August.  Last year, we went back on 5 August 2022—a Friday.  That seemed almost intentionally spiteful on the part of my administration:  “nope, you’re not going to have one full week left with fun weekend plans; you need to sit through the employee handbook again.”

Now it’s 3 August 2023, a Thursday.  That seems even more spiteful.  Why not give us one last, full week?

Readers might say, “Hey, you’ve been off for eight weeks; why are you complaining?”  Or, alternatively, “Well, if the start of school is imminent, maybe you need to go back today.”

Wrong—wrong!  Classes do not resume until Wednesday, 16 August 2023, almost two weeks from today.  Four days next week are tied up with student registration.  So we’ll have three days of mind-numbingly bureaucratic meetings—during which I’m sure we’ll learn of some new, onerous burden that we teachers are to bear—followed by a bunch of kids buying textbooks.

But I must adopt a positive attitude.  While I am not thrilled to be going back to work, the routine will certainly do me some good.  I am beginning to understand why people die six months after retirement.  Sometimes, the free time can be overwhelming.

I mean, not for me, but I can see how it could be for some people.  We get so used to working nonstop, it’s hard to slow down.  Fortunately, yours portly enjoys his afternoon naptime as much as the next octogenarian.

I digress.  The school year does bring with a pleasant rhythm—and more music lessons.  July is the leanest month of the year for those, and while teaching twenty-ish lessons a week in addition to my normal course load is grueling, it brings in the bacon.

Of course, my skin flint readers (that’s you!) could also pitch in a few bucks each month (thanks to those of you who do!), but I know budgets are tight.  Why send $5 a month to a cool dude you know and love when you can spend it at some soulless corporation that wants to use your corpse for dog food?

Goodness!  That escalated quickly.  Can you tell I’m a tad irate?

With that, here is “TBT^2: Back to the Grind 2020“:

Well, tomorrow I head back to work.  Classes don’t start for nearly another two weeks—I guess in thirteen days—but I’ll be back in endless meetings, OSHA training, and AFLAC presentations, followed by a lot of registration stuff.

The last couple of school years were really a slog, especially last year, when we were kind of getting back to normal, but still dealing with the inconvenience of Virus-related mitigation measures.  I’m praying this year for some sanity—no masks, no vaccination passports.

Well, teaching always includes some insanity.  It keeps the job fresh, and keeps us young (while simultaneously aging us rapidly, it seems).

I’m not sure how I’m spending this last day of summery freedom—probably writing blog posts and teaching lessons!—but Summer 2022 has been a pretty good one all around.

With that, here is 12 August 2021’s “TBT: Back to the Grind 2020“:

This past Monday, teachers at my small private school resumed work, sitting through our annual OSHA blood-borne pathogens training and another sales pitch from the AFLAC representative (start offering long-term disability insurance, AFLAC, and I’ll buy a policy).  Registration for new and returning students is now in full swing.

Last year was a unique school year, with its own challenges and opportunities.  As I detailed in this post, we had a host of new sanitation procedures, as well as the odious masks.  This year, the masks are optional, but we’re still sanitizing desks and checking temperatures at the door.

Unlike last year, we’ll have all the fun stuff again:  pep rallies, chapel, etc.  I know the students will be excited for some fun events to return to campus.

Of course, that means yours portly will be back to hustling to satisfy the bottomless appetite for audio-visual production values the students (and my administration) crave.  One silver lining of last school year was the vast reduction in constant events and activities, which allowed me the time to focus on teaching and grading.

Oh, well—here’s to another year!  And here’s 10 August 2020’s “Back to the Grind 2020“:

Today marks the first day that teachers at my little private school returned to work (classes don’t begin until 20 August 2020).  We’ve been going through protocol for returning to school and, boy, let me tell you:  it’s going to be a doozy.

I’m already grating at the mask wearing, which we are to keep on unless we’re able to socially distance appropriately (such as being in our classrooms alone).  I’m not arguing that they’re some kind of symbol of oppression (which, let’s face it, they kind of are); they’re just uncomfortable.  It is hot in South Carolina, and will remain that way well into October.  Masks stifle, literally and figuratively.

But I’m willing to wear one for the safety of my students and colleagues.  The real challenge will be enforcing, a la the ubiquitous “Karens” of the world, social distancing and mask rules.  That will be a Sisyphean task, especially with the younger students.

We’re also livestreaming our classes if we have a student who has elected to learn from home.  Students will be required to sign in at the scheduled class time, and marked “present,” “absent,” and “tardy” as normal.  That won’t be too difficult, but it will certainly add to the growing list of daily classroom administration tasks.  We’ll also be disinfecting desks at every classroom change, which will add another small but onerous burden to the already-hectic change-of-class time.

Needless to say, it will be an interesting school year.  I’m praying that these new measures can be implemented relatively smoothly, but teachers and students are in for an adjustment—a borderline culture shock.

More to come.  Say a prayer for teachers, students, administrators, and support personnel.  We need your support!

—TPP