So, orientation was today, and in typical orientation style, I left more confused than before. My schedule, to say the least, is frightening. I believe I experienced a brief moment of insanity (or a brief six weeks of insanity) as I filled out my course requests last year, and I am now presented with a full day.
No math, though, which I'm not sure is a good thing. After all, I'd like to take Calculus next year, but I'm pretty sure my brain will be quite fuzzy on those concepts by then. I guess we'll see.
The scariest thing, though, is tomorrow. First days are always so nerve-wracking. Meeting a whole posse of new teachers, remembering all my teachers, classrooms, books, and homework . . . I wish I could skip it altogether. Honestly, I don't mind school so much once I get into the swing of things, used to the routine. Yes, the daily grin can be a complete bore, but the evil I know is definitely preferable to the evil I don't know. That being said, school can be pretty evil even in the middle of the year. *coughmidtermsfinalscough* Routine can get me very depressed, I realize, and doing the same thing every day can really bring me down. Especially when I don't get home until six every day.
So, while orientation was mildly chaotic, I feel bad for my little sister. Fake little sister, that is. The little freshie seemed completely lost, even more nervous than I was way back when. Then again, I mentally blocked most of ninth grade (heavy trauma), so I could be deceiving myself. For all I know, I could have been quaking in my black flats. In fact, I probably was. Most of what I remember from my freshman year consists of rushing from place to place and coming late to everything because I kept getting lost in my labyrinth of a building, while the upperclassmen strolled leisurely through the halls, all self-assured and confident, and never, ever got lost.
Wow. I'm that upperclassman. (Well, upperclasswoman, really, but the idea is the same.) My principal announced, this morning, as we made ourselves comfortable for the long list of speeches to come, that we are officially "over the hump." Every day this year, instead of making me deeper enmeshed in my high school, is bringing me one step closer to freedom. One day less to graduation. I recall thinking to myself, when I first put on that stifling uniform two years ago, how much was ahead of me. Four years is a very long time. But now? I've survived. I made it halfway through, and I have only two years to go. Two years is a very short time.
My big sister, just so you know, was not at all nice to me. I remember her pointing vaguely in one direction and saying, "There are your lockers," and vaguely in the other direction and saying, "There's where we daven," before grabbing her bag and saying, "Bye." Helpful, I know. It was her job to make the transition a little easier for me, but she was just impossible. So, of course, I vowed to be a much better big sister when I reached that age, and help out my charge with lockers, books, and all the messy paperwork. I even called her the night before! And
today, I spent a good hour schlepping her books, waiting on line, and just explaining some rules, before giving her the grand tour, and . . . MY PHONE NUMBER. Hopefully, when my little one hits eleventh grade, she'll be inclined to return the favor, and make it a little easier on an incoming freshman.
(Wouldn't it be weird if my fake little sister became my real little sister's fake big sister? And then if my real little sister became my fake little sister's real little sister's fake big sister? It's like cosmic justice or something.)
But anyway, I'm just seriously nervous about tomorrow. Wish me luck!
No math, though, which I'm not sure is a good thing. After all, I'd like to take Calculus next year, but I'm pretty sure my brain will be quite fuzzy on those concepts by then. I guess we'll see.
The scariest thing, though, is tomorrow. First days are always so nerve-wracking. Meeting a whole posse of new teachers, remembering all my teachers, classrooms, books, and homework . . . I wish I could skip it altogether. Honestly, I don't mind school so much once I get into the swing of things, used to the routine. Yes, the daily grin can be a complete bore, but the evil I know is definitely preferable to the evil I don't know. That being said, school can be pretty evil even in the middle of the year. *coughmidtermsfinalscough* Routine can get me very depressed, I realize, and doing the same thing every day can really bring me down. Especially when I don't get home until six every day.So, while orientation was mildly chaotic, I feel bad for my little sister. Fake little sister, that is. The little freshie seemed completely lost, even more nervous than I was way back when. Then again, I mentally blocked most of ninth grade (heavy trauma), so I could be deceiving myself. For all I know, I could have been quaking in my black flats. In fact, I probably was. Most of what I remember from my freshman year consists of rushing from place to place and coming late to everything because I kept getting lost in my labyrinth of a building, while the upperclassmen strolled leisurely through the halls, all self-assured and confident, and never, ever got lost.
Wow. I'm that upperclassman. (Well, upperclasswoman, really, but the idea is the same.) My principal announced, this morning, as we made ourselves comfortable for the long list of speeches to come, that we are officially "over the hump." Every day this year, instead of making me deeper enmeshed in my high school, is bringing me one step closer to freedom. One day less to graduation. I recall thinking to myself, when I first put on that stifling uniform two years ago, how much was ahead of me. Four years is a very long time. But now? I've survived. I made it halfway through, and I have only two years to go. Two years is a very short time.
My big sister, just so you know, was not at all nice to me. I remember her pointing vaguely in one direction and saying, "There are your lockers," and vaguely in the other direction and saying, "There's where we daven," before grabbing her bag and saying, "Bye." Helpful, I know. It was her job to make the transition a little easier for me, but she was just impossible. So, of course, I vowed to be a much better big sister when I reached that age, and help out my charge with lockers, books, and all the messy paperwork. I even called her the night before! And
today, I spent a good hour schlepping her books, waiting on line, and just explaining some rules, before giving her the grand tour, and . . . MY PHONE NUMBER. Hopefully, when my little one hits eleventh grade, she'll be inclined to return the favor, and make it a little easier on an incoming freshman.(Wouldn't it be weird if my fake little sister became my real little sister's fake big sister? And then if my real little sister became my fake little sister's real little sister's fake big sister? It's like cosmic justice or something.)
But anyway, I'm just seriously nervous about tomorrow. Wish me luck!
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