Yesterday, I dragged our coffee table and end table outside and gave them each a fresh coat of white paint. With each stroke of the brush, I simply painted over the marks, scratches, and blemishes of the previous year. It was wonderfully therapeutic.
I’m ready for a new school year.
That first clean piece of notebook paper.
A new pencil with an untouched eraser.
A crisp, unblemished autumn rolling out before you like a red carpet.
Yes, I’m sad that my summer time with my family is quickly coming to an end.
But I’m ready for a fresh start. Last year was a hundred moments of self-doubt, a thousand days of trial-and-error, and a million little decisions to just.keep.moving.forward. I’m ready to smooth over some of my teaching mistakes from last year. I’m ready to get back in the game with a little more experience, and a fresh coat of confidence.
This morning, Isaac was drawing pictures on my newly-painted coffee table. He spilled the shavings from his pencil sharpener on the table and tried to wipe them up, smearing gray led leavings across the white surface.
Hey buddy! You just messed up my clean white table! I teased him.
He replied, “Don’t you love me more than your table? I just got messy marks on my chubby little fingers!”
Touche, buddy. Touche.
I do love him more than the table. The marks mean life, living, trying, learning. I will make a million more mistakes this year, too, because it’s a part of the process of becoming.
But right now, I’m savoring the fresh start.