Less than two weeks ago, I was on vacation with my parents.

The only sounds were trees rustling, the creek flowing over the rocks past our yard, and sometimes, my parents voices as we conversed about sensible, grown up things.

Also, my parents always use indoor voices… even outdoors!

That, however, was then. We left our relaxing, peaceful cabin in the woods, and I knew, subconsciously, that the idyllic days of summer were nearly over.

But two mornings later, I still felt the culture shock as I tried to grasp that the first day of school had arrived.

I was looking forward to it for so long, but I can never quite prepare for the feeling of being surrounded by so many children… especially after a summer of living with my very grown-up parents who always use indoor voices.

The first morning, a stream of excited children and their backpacks (carrying hundreds of markers and countless scented, colored, otherwise “cool” school supplies) enter the building.

I smiled. I said good morning. It felt familiar, comfortable.

Small people were everywhere – many, many small people.

A small blur careened across the parking lot, competing with the speed of sound. (I’m certain that sound still travels faster, I realized later, because we could hear him before he reached us.)

One of the tall people expressed their best wishes and I realized it will be my job to keep the distance between him and his desk to a minimum – for the next ten months.

I quickly grew comfortable among the small people, and by the second day, the possibility of an adult exiting the cloakroom never crossed my mind when I challenged grade four to a race in from recess. Thankfully the littles have a low center of gravity and dodged around the surprised mother who was innocently stepping out of the building. I don’t have that ability, so I was left to come to a screeching halt and breathlessly blurt, “Sorry!” before continuing on my way.

That afternoon, there were balloons. As many balloons as children, and the tall people all shuffling them around – the balloons, not the children – and much loudness echoed in the school. All school activities to kick off the year – to get the students excited, the staff exhausted, and everybody has a delightful time. I may have wondered a time or two how I got involved in this craziness…

On the third morning of school, we sang “Star of the East.” I had forgotten that Christmas runs from September to June here (and probably July and August too, I’m just not at school to sing with them in the summer).

My students seem to think I am always looking out for them. And I am – get me right – but not quite like this:

A student asked to leave class and use the washroom. I said “Yes, but there are only a few minutes until recess.” The child positively beamed at me and replied, “Thank you for telling me, but don’t worry, it won’t take me that long. (Yes… okay. We are glad you will get every minute of recess this way, since you habitually leave class in time to be back just before the bell. That wasn’t quite what I meant…)

My recent google searches include “is there a house built entirely of candy”. This was to settle a lunch debate on the topic, however, before I found the answer, the conversation had moved to other, more weighty topics. Such as, is it really stealing if you can get gumballs out of the machine by kicking it – and they’re only worth 25 cents anyway?

I’m adjusting to eating lunch with 13 self-appointed professional food critics. Every day when I return from microwaving my food, the classroom goes silent. They watch me open the lid. And students in the back row call out to those at the front, “what does she have today?!”

Apparently they thought teachers always have really good lunches, and were amazed to learn that I eat leftovers from the night before. JUST LIKE THEM!!!

So I eat my extraordinarily good leftovers while listening to stories of frogs laying eggs through their mouth (remember that small people act out everything they tell, which can be unnerving). I swat bees, open yogourt, answer a gazillion questions, and try to get my lunch eaten though I am the only one in the room who doesn’t talk with her mouth full.

Life with the littles is never dull…

It’s good to be home.