I’m sure I am not the only one who has been bombarded the last couple of weeks with signs that Back-to-School season is upon us. Target is full of parents filling up carts with school supplies desperate for their children to be back in school, my Facebook feed is filled with first day of school pictures, and every third video on my Tik Tok For You Page is a video of a teacher decorating their classroom. This season used to be one of my favorites. The amount of joy I got from spending August days decorating a classroom, laminating and labeling everything, and writing lesson plans in my teacher planner was unmatched. This year grief and tears are replacing the joy. I find myself avoiding the Back To School section in stores like one would avoid a first date you ghosted and crying while watching Tik Tok videos of teachers decorating their classrooms. 

This afternoon while on my way to see A+ therapist the universe decided to just smack me upside the head with grief.  I turned down a street and came face to face with school dismissal. There were children running to their parent’s eager to tell them about their first day of school and teachers with the look of pure excitement and pure exhaustion on their face that I remember so well… cue the tears. My eyes began to immediately water and then eventually the deluge of tears came. I was ugly crying at a stop sign outside of an elementary school.. sounds like a line in a bad country song. 

As I ugly cried my way to therapy, I realized these were tears that needed to come and grief that needed to be felt. I’ve spent the last couple of weeks trying to keep a lid on it and avoid the sadness I feel when I think about not spending my days teaching and learning from little humans. I’ve avoided this grief out of fear and because it’s painful. Teaching is what I was put on this Earth to do. In a classroom surrounded by preschool students is where I felt the most at home and the most myself. I miss the tangible joy and laughter. I miss the excitement each day brought. I miss being called “Ms. Peterson.” I miss going home with a bag overflowing with pictures made for me. I miss the silly songs. I miss the lessons I learned from my students as they taught me far more than I ever taught them. I miss writing in my color-coded teacher planner. I miss laminating and labeling things… yes, I am the kind of person that got immeasurable joy from laminating and labeling things. I miss every part of it including the endless paperwork, administration meetings, and difficult moments. 

I recently stumbled upon an old picture of me with one of my preschool classes and it was in many ways like looking at a stranger. It feels like the Sara in that picture doesn’t exist anymore and I miss her. While I am learning how to accept the life I have now and the person I am now, I’d still give anything to go back to being “Ms. Peterson.”  

Grief has taught me to appreciate every moment and be present in every moment because there is no going back. Grief has  humbled me and turned me into someone who ugly cries at a stop sign outside of an elementary school.