September, time to buy new pens and duotangs. There is anticipation of what is going to happen now that the unscripted days of summer are replaced with the rhythm of fall. Blank pages, books, different ideas.   It’s back to school.

Walking back in to the classroom, with it’s sanitized smell, and overly clean blackboards, always felt like a fresh start. Whatever had taken place the year before – the bad marks, the trips to the principal’s office, those weird sandwiches my mum made me for lunch – was all in the past, now’s another opportunity for new.

I still feel that way. It all begins again. My class is a little larger, and it’s harder to distinguish one grade from the other, but it is different from last year. I make similar resolves. I want to sit at the front, try harder, and avoid getting the shit kicked out of me at recess.

I can look forward to both failing and succeeding. I’ll discover things I can do, and others that I have no clue about. At the best of times I’ll be curious, and at worst bored. There will always be older ones above me who know more, that I both look up to and fear. There are even the cool kids, the smart kids, and the ones who hang out back smoking cigarettes and skipping class. Still, at times, I don’t know where I fit.

I want to start this September with the promise that comes from a new backpack full of unbitten HB pencils, 500 sheets of wide lined foolscap, wooden ruler with the metal edge, and a lunch that has a box of raisins, Dad’s cookies, and any kind of sandwich other than egg.