Many children are starting school. I saw a few dance into the café that I frequent, their hair in French braids, and new sneakers on their feet. Others held up signs for their mothers to document the moment which today feels on schedule but in a few years will evoke deep nostalgia.
My daughter in France will probably not pause to take a
selfie of her first day in grad school, nor will the one in Spain document the beginning of senior year. They are preoccupied with text books... if such things still exist... and navigating public transportation in the early hours.
Do grown ups take selfies of their first day on the job? They could, as long as no coworkers were looking. Perhaps the tradition works with students because by definition the grade level only lasts a year. Employees generally hope for
lengthier arrangements.
The uncertainty is fertile ground for both nervousness and excitement. What will the teacher be like? Will the work be hard? Who will sit next to you? Or in the case of adults, will expectations be reasonable? Am I actually qualified for this position?
Novelty is the yin to familiarity's yang. Most of us want a parfait of both, like sweet and savory. It occurs to me that young children have a larger portion
of the former, while octogenarians are doused in the latter. Each one brings meaning, and the potential for joy.
In my home, though, there are no such fresh starts taking place. Our routines are much the same as they have been, though I have no complaints about that. The cycle within each new day is enough to keep me curious and content.
"This is the day that
the Lord has made. We will rejoice and be glad in it." Psalm 118
