The first day always begins and ends with a rush. In the morning, it's parents dropping off their students and walking them to class while they can, before our "hug zone" gets implemented tomorrow; kindergarten parents in the library afterwards, sharing comments of "What do we do now?" and "Time has gone so fast!"; and our brand new fifth grade broadcast team, eager to get to work but naive about the intricacies of running the announcements.
The middle of the day was more routine--dividing up old lunch cards among the newly formed classes and delivering them, rounding up new students to have theirs made, answering emails, filling out forms.
The end of the day is another rush of students, criss-crossing the campus as they go one way to line up for car pickup, another for the buses. All hands on deck again, to make sure each child gets home safely.
And then quiet falls upon the school, an eerie quiet, not unlike that calm that follows giving birth. A moment of bewilderment, of "I did it!" followed by "What's next?". And then the exhaustion hits, and I realize that I still have to pick up the high school child, drive home, and come back tomorrow to do it again. So home I go, home is where I stay and eat dinner and write this blog and work a little bit, until sleep claims me before the evening news airs.