Vacation’s over, and tomorrow is the first day of classes for me.

When I taught in the public schools, I was depressed beginning on the Fourth of July, because it was “almost time to go back to school.”

Now, I’m happy to go back, because the difference between this gig and that gig is like night and day, or any other extreme antonym you could come up with.

I’ve got classes on the home front (regional campus) and classes on the main campus (only thirty miles away), and this pleases me greatly, too. It means that I will be doing our primary grocery shopping on Wednesday nights this semester, for after class is over at 9:00 p.m., I will be driving right past my favorite Marsh store on the west side of the city! Yay, Marsh; I make fun of you all the time, but you are my FAVORITE GROCERY STORE EVER! It also means that two days out of the week, I’ll be saving the gasoline, because the regional campus is only three miles away, and right in the middle of town. MY town. And I love it there, too.

New this year: Picture ID’s for all the instructors. Hub’s had them at the high school for a few years now, but we’ve not gone that route at the college until now. They’ll have to trust that I am who I say I am until Wednesday, though, because that’s when I’ll be on the main campus. I really loathe getting my picture taken; I mean, who IS that large old woman, anyway? I look at pictures of me and I don’t recognize myself. I’d best get used to it, though, since I’ll be wearing my picture around my neck for the rest of my career.

Since I go to class in the morning, I’d best get my papers organized. I threw them in the garage on the last day of summer session, and now I have to go through them and organize all the chapterwork. I’ve got my five syllabi updated and printed out and forwarded to the head of the department, who is a really great person: she’s smart and savvy and snarky and has a wonderful sense of humor. I’m extremely fortunate in my boss; it wasn’t that way in the public schools.

Anyway, except for some organization and sorting, and a lot of Xeroxing in the morning, I’m ready.

The instructors have a dress code now, too. It was a matter of time; some of the professors looked like beachcombers, and others looked like they were warming up for a track and field event. I do not own very many clothes, but I always tried to look professional up on the main campus where something would be said if we didn’t. On the regional campuses, things are not as strict. But I do agree that when visitors can’t always tell the professors from the students, something needs to be done.

Even in the public schools, I believe that students of any age behave better when the teacher looks like a professional.

So here I go into the dining room, where I have tossed all the papers from the garage onto the big table. My haphazard filing system (I have more folders labeled “misc” than any other kind) has gotten all messed up over the summer and I have tonight to straighten it out. And gather all the papers I will need for tomorrow. And dig out the proper textbooks from that big pile under the kitchen bar. And lay out some clothes that are not capris and t-shirts, because if I don’t do that the night before, I’m sunk trying to focus on anything in the early morning hours.

Wish me luck, if you would. So far, my students at the college, with only a few outstanding exceptions, have been wonderful, and have given me hope for the future of the universe. Those few exceptions WERE outstanding, though. Tee hee. Firly brinkmire, indeed.

I am going to have a great semester, because I’m going in fully intending to have a great semester. Attitude isn’t everything, but it’s a great deal of it. And I love, love, love my college, both campuses, and almost every person I’ve met there.

And now, to get at those papers and files, before the kittens who have destroyed almost everything in my house and who are going to the vet’s to be “done” this coming Friday, hahahahaha after which they’ll be living mostly outdoors and doing their shredding and major pooping outside those sweet soft purry little thangs, find them and shred them into confetti, as they’ve done to everything else they touch.