A Fresh Start, Every Year

One of the things I love most about my career is that every August (or rather, July), I get a fresh start. Unlike many professions, education offers this gift of renewal—where both students and adults get to begin again. There’s a certain buzz as schools reopen: classrooms decorated with care, hallways shining, and anticipation spilling into every corner.

Open houses/Sneak Peeks are some of my favorite moments. Meeting new students, reconnecting with families, and feeling that mix of excitement and nerves never gets old. Then there are the social media first-day-of-school pictures—tiny Pre-K smiles swallowed by oversized backpacks, middle schoolers trying to look just a little too cool, and college kids proudly stepping into independence. These snapshots are more than tradition to me; they’re mile markers. Year by year, you can see the growth, the changes, the story unfolding.

And once the rush of that first day settles, real life takes its place. Early bus times. Hurried breakfasts. Carpools, practices, games. Dinners squeezed in wherever they fit—at the table, in the car, sometimes in shifts. On the rare evenings when all five of us manage to gather around the same table, I feel the weight of how precious those moments really are. Weekends become a chance to “sleep in,” if only a little, before the rhythm and preparation of the next week begins again.

At school, there’s so much happening behind the scenes—schedules to finalize, jitters to calm, paperwork to complete, meetings to sit through, boxes to check. Through it all, I try to keep a smile, protect my peace, and remember the “why”—setting students and teachers up for the very best year possible. I love hearing about summer adventures, welcoming newcomers, and offering quiet reassurance to the nervous ones.

And yet, while I pour myself into other people’s children all day, my own family waits for me at home. That balance isn’t always easy. Some evenings mean volleyball with my daughter, long AP World conversations with my high schooler, or nudging my middle schooler to actually study for his quiz. It’s messy and tiring—but these are the moments that matter most.

This year hit me in a new way: it was my last first day of elementary school. After 11 straight years of sending at least one child through those doors, that chapter is closed. The realization stopped me in my tracks—time is a thief. These years of busy schedules, carpool chaos, and late-night homework checks won’t last forever. One day, my children’s first days won’t happen under my roof.

So for now, I’m holding tight to the chaos. The noise, the hustle, the endless lists, the weekends that feel too short. Because tucked inside it all is joy—joy in watching my children chase what they love, joy in seeing them grow into who they are meant to be, and joy in having a career that reminds me every single year how powerful a fresh start can be.