Growing up in Israel, September 1st was the first
day of the school year. No matter what else would suggest bumping the beginning
of our toil either forward or pushing it back, the schedule was as firm as it was
non-negotiable.
Unless it fell on Saturday, the Jewish Sabbath. Oh, how we
hoped it would. One year, when September began on Saturday, we rejoiced as if
we had won the lottery; Our summer vacation got an extra day of freedom.
There was something sad that enveloped the last day of
summer vacation. The whiff of changes to come loomed large, and when I reflect
on that predictable feeling, which came like clockwork on August the 31st,
I realize I was always anxious and unhappy about change. Each new school year
meant a new teacher, a new room (Israel didn’t have a “homeroom” system for
elementary schools back then) and possibly a few new classmates to get used to.
It wasn’t the return to school, which I mostly liked. It was
the return of the daily homework assignments, which I mostly disliked. When I reflect
on my distain for homework, I realize very few assignments were stimulating or
interesting. The few that were interesting made me happy. But most were a
drudge and the word boring is too kind for the almost mindless
regurgitation imposed. How can one not feel sad that many months of these daily
backpacks laden with heavy cement were about to be placed on our backs, and for so-o-o
many months until summer vacation begins again?
The last day of August bore the color of cement.
You know how you might dread something, like getting a shot
or swallowing fish oil pills, and the dread grows inside your belly until it
swells too large to be contained and floods your whole being? That about
describes what August 31st was like.
But, like the shot or smelly pill, once done it amazes how
needless the dread should have been.
September 1st, by the end of the school day, all
was well and you are assured it will continue to be, rolling from week to week
until the great summer vacation comes again.
So many years later, I still feel both August 31st
and September 1st every year they come around.
I say to the me-of-then and to school children in Israel, it will be all right.
My very first September 1st:
still joyous with my best friend the first day of first grade, before we knew a
thing about the vat of daily homework we were about to be dunked into.
The words behind us
spell “Hello First Grade”
