August Sunday

For teachers, the new year isn’t January 1st; it’s an intricate journey that unfolds in August. The traditional new year, marked by calendar changes and resolutions, only signifies a midpoint in their school year. January can feel heavy after the two-week winter break, as both teachers and students navigate a long stretch ahead. The cold, dark days often sap energy, making the return feel almost like a hibernation. It’s understandable that, in this period, things may seem stagnant. So for many teachers, the real new year begins as summer gently comes to an end, inviting them to embrace fresh starts and renewed hope.

The funny thing about August is if you’re aware of the energy, you can feel the returned energy of kids. In June and July, kids are resetting at home, or maybe at camps. They are strangely absent in my neighborhood. Unless you’ve been surrounded by large groups of kids for extended periods of time, you may be unaware. However, when kids return, they bring certain vibration to an area. It’s almost like a low hum of energy you might feel from an electric current. As August lumbers on, the vibration becomes louder, and a bit more forceful, almost signaling that it’s time to convene once more. Almost innately, teachers can feel this vibration, especially elementary teachers who spend time with students whose energy hasn’t yet been harnessed.

August is too soon, they say. Summer isn’t over yet. Feeds are filled with teachers expressing nerves, joy, sadness, hope for what will be. Nevertheless, the pull to get ready and return is powerful. Mindless doom scrolling turns into Goggling classroom decor and first day of school ice breakers. Once the ball starts rolling, it’s impossible to stop. Feeds turn from how to relax to teacher trends for the new year. While July seems like one endless day, the swiftness of August is unrelenting. We feel it. The new year is here.

Earlier this month, on a walk very early in the morning, I happened across a child riding a big wheel in the road. He appeared to be maybe 4 or 5 years old. As he rode his bike among the parked cars in the development, I searched for his grown-up but no one appeared. He made another loop around, this time riding his vehicle on the sidewalk and up to a glassed in porch. Quickly, I realized he was out on his own. Dressed, shoes on, just heading out to get some exercise. While I briefly admired his independence, it concerned me that he was not supervised. A week later, I saw him again. And just yesterday, again, but this time he was not alone. He had a buddy, just about the same age, riding next to him. And I watched as they pulled up to a door, just as adults parked a car, and entered. It was in that moment, I realized these small humans, riding unabashedly through the neighborhood, would be in someone’s class next week. Maybe even mine.

August is a vibration. Literally. Male cicadas are so loud it becomes white noise after a few minutes. The are unrelenting in their search for a partner. As are the children, searching for peer connections again. While the physical and mental rest of the summer is necessary, the routine of school is welcomed. The early mornings, new and old friends, teachers and learning, the kids in my community know it’s here. And they are buzzing. Louder and braver than before. We hoped for this after the apathy of the past few years.

But we’re not ready yet. Just one more day that the sun streaming in the window is the alarm. One last chance to read a book cover to cover on the deck with an iced coffee and not a care in the world. Let me have the mental peace for a few seconds of not needed to worry about who is watching the boy on the big wheel. Why would he be allowed out in a neighborhood with moving vehicles alone? What if someone took him? There are crazy people out here. Just let me enjoy the mental peace of not being that person who needs to ask the hard questions. The universe prepares because of inertia. Stop and listen. There are signs that the new year will soon be here.

August and Sundays have similar vibes. Slow and steady. Rest and reflect. But not today. This August Sunday is screaming “The new year is here!”