Big white collars and wooden necklaces...

Well all teachers started back to school on Tuesday; our whole school district convocated today (and the squiggly little red line tells me that convocated is not a word but I really don't care tonight); and we are all exhausted and already counting down the days till summer 2013. So I guess it's official...my 22nd year in the profession is well underway.

22 years.

Twenty-two years has come to pass in an instant and I know I sound like my grandma when I say this, but my...how time flies! And I can recall my very first ever day of teaching. It's as vivid as what I did today. Ok...well...I don't remember what I did 5 minutes ago but that is neither here nor there. But anyway...my first day of teaching was memorable to say the least and I even remember what I wore. A blue t-shirt dress with white flowers all over it, a white doily detachable collar, white lace hose, and navy blue shoes with a big gold button on top. Oh...and my wooden schoolhouse necklace and wooden apple earrings. It was quite picturesque. Really. I wore units on the second day! Anyone remember those?

Now...the actual teaching and interaction with the kids isn't so fresh anymore. It was the after school fiasco that haunts my memory.

I happened to be living with my mom and dad when I got my first teaching job. My rookie salary did not afford me the luxury of renting an apartment AND having transportation. I had to pick one. So I chose transportation. But because it was only my first day, I had not received a paycheck yet so I was still driving a piece of work. To and from work. My dad also drove that car sometimes.

As you are well aware, MUCH has changed in 22 years. It may come as a shock to some of you yunguns, but back then we did not have cars that told you how many miles you had left on your tank of gas. And there was no sound alert or gas light or digital anything. I know. Crazy. The little meter needle would just rise toward F when you filled your tank and fall toward the E as you drove around and burned gas. But sometimes they did not work so well. And the tired little needle on the gauge would just rest in one spot for a while. And when you are not the only driver of a car, you may or may not know whether your tank is full, half-full, or dry as a bone.

My dad thought I put gas in it. I thought he put gas in it. And the sad little teacher with her white lace hose and big doily collar walked all the way home in the Texas heat on her first day of school.

22 years ago.