One of the many pious fictions humans entertain is the start of the calendar year.
We observe the “new year” on January 1, a relic of an ancient republic’s start of its senate session. We all know when the year really starts: The First Day of School.
The First Day of School, no matter where you live or even what date it is (August 28 in Suffield), signals the start of just about everything.
Whereas January 1 opens a season of cold weather, long nights and often empty resolutions, the First Day of School represents a fresh start. Whatever mistakes you made last year, forget about them. You got your grade, and you leveled up. It’s a new year with new classes, teachers, classrooms, books, assignments, teams, schedules and clothes. Yes, there are higher expectations and harder challenges, but let’s cross those bridges when we get there. On the First Day, it’s a clean slate!
It’s a chance to rebrand yourself. In high school, I ran with a toxic clique of, for lack of a better word, Freaks. There was the cliche “leader” that loved to pit us against each other. I broke with the crew in 10th grade, but one of my fellow minions went full-on makeover: He joined the cross-country team as a junior, made varsity and became an accomplished runner. Right before graduation, he and I debriefed on our Freakish past, and we came to regard those days as far removed and foreign as past lives.
Maybe it’s all the schedules we download, the textbooks we’re assigned or the calendars we put on the refrigerators, but an entire course of events seems to germinate from The First Day of School. There’s a narrative of assignments, tests, games, events, meets, performances, breaks, midterms and finals that takes shape and concludes nine months later on The Last Day of School.
I have never not known a year without a First Day of School. I was born to parents in graduate school. I did my own education run for 17 years and married a woman who went to dental and graduate schools. I had three kids, two of whom are still in school. If you factor future grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I imagine I’ll be experiencing First Days of School for the rest of my life.
If I were a revolutionary, I would propose realigning the calendar year to start on a nationally designated First Day of School on September 1 and make it a big deal – speeches, ringing of bells and fireworks. But I’m getting too old to tilt at windmills, and the New Year’s Eve Industrial Complex is far too powerful and entrenched in our culture to enact meaningful change. Everyone loves a party and any excuse to sleep late.
The First Day of School is not about sleeping in, it’s about getting up and looking forward to another year of promise, optimism, excitement and even unanticipated drama here and there.
When the race finally concludes next summer, there will be a real reason to celebrate. And the weather will be perfect.