As August gets underway and September approaches, the ads on the radio are turning to “back to school” specials. Backpacks, notebooks, pencils and pens congregate in the most visible supermarket aisles, taking up valuable real estate and reminding us all that it’s time for the students to go back to school.
The strangest thing about being a graduate isn’t not being in school, it’s not going back to school once summer ends.
Every year of my life since I can remember, this is the time for me to go back to school. Something in my subconscious is telling me that I should be preparing to go back for another year of college, but I’m not.
I suppose it’s hardest the first year out of school, where every instinct is telling you that your life rhythm is about to be thrown off if you don’t head back to school soon. Next year it will probably still be weird, but a new pattern will be developing that omits the regular school year. Then, eventually, when August rolls around, I suppose I won’t even realize that upon a time I used to go back to school right around now.
It’s a weird feeling; not going back.