August is here; that means school begins soon. As a teacher, August is the time when I repeatedly hear (from well-meaning people) thoughts of sympathy that I must return to school soon. “Are you ready?” they query, usually with a note of sadness in their voice. It’s as if they expect me to bemoan the fact that soon the hallways of my school will be filled with teenagers and my days filled with my feeble attempts to teach them literature and writing. Here’s the truth: I can’t wait for it to begin.

Now don’t get me wrong, I enjoy the summer break. That second cup of coffee in my reading chair in the morning is pretty nice. I love going on fun and interesting vacations with my family. It’s pretty great to get caught up on projects around the house that had been relegated to the fringes of my busy schedule during the school year. But by the time I flip the family calendar in the kitchen and see August at the top I’m ready to return to school. I miss the students. I miss hearing about their successes and challenges with academics, sports, the arts, etc. They make me laugh with their wit and my heart ache with their troubles. I don’t miss the getting up early or the deadlines. I don’t miss grading papers or attending faculty meetings. I miss the kids.

I have a huge list of things that I need to teach them before the end of May comes around; but the truth is that the main thing I want to tell them (beginning on that very first day) is that they each have great value as a human being. If all they get from me is the truth that they have great intrinsic value as a human being, not for what they offer the rest of us, then that’s pretty good. I want to contradict the voices they hear that lie to them saying that their value is tethered to grades, athletic ability, artistic talent, physical appearance, money/things, etc. I want them to leave my classroom in May having heard another voice saying that even if they come in dead last in all of these things they are still infinitely valuable simply because of their humanity. I want them to know that they are not animals with protein-enriched brains and opposable thumbs; they are not machines; but that they are holy and invaluable… they are loved truly.

As teachers approach the beginning of the school year, our schedules begin to be peppered with training in preparation for the imminent arrival of our students. We get training on classroom and behavior management, curriculum, technology, etc. I’ve come to realize that every single training session is basically an attempt to artificially construct two things: 1. A love of students and 2. Content competence. The best teachers are experts in their field and love their students. I don’t think that this can be replaced or replicated with any discipline plan, instructional technique, techno-gizmo, or curriculum. Every new program is truly designed to replicate one or both of these two things. I guess that’s why I dread attending these trainings. Sitting there listening to a speaker tell me how to artificially replicate these two faculties of a good educator just feels like wearing clothes that don’t fit. I’ll go. I’ll sit. I’ll listen. But the reason why so many of these programs have limited success is that kids are smarter than we give them credit for. They can tell the difference between real love and a program intended to simulate love. They know the difference between a “good handout” and someone who truly loves and understands the course material. They aren’t so easily fooled. That’s one of the reasons why I like them!

Am I ready for the beginning of school? Oh boy am I!