So, once again, Monday brings school and the return of students to the track of knowledge. It was funny, last Monday, in the morning, I had an appointment with a doctor and a procedure that I will just say, after I got home, caused me to curl up in a corner, sucking my thumb, and whimpering like a French girl. But later that day, I sent out an e-mail to my department trying to encourage them about the start of school the next day. I didn't have the words, phrases, pictures, nothing. I had no heart to step back into the job that I had been at for almost ten years. But it was funny, by the late afternoon, the heart began to change. Motivation started to come back. Now, I have to admit, it wasn't fast, nor was it a lot, trickling like a leaky faucet. But it was definitely changing.

By Tuesday morning, when all the teachers and staff were to report back, I was ready to go. It was getting exciting, things were coming together, things were moving, shaking, we were in the groove, and for the week, 187 teachers and another 75 staff were 'fuelin' the rocket.'

This Monday, we take possession of your teenagers. Yep, we get their baggy-pants, gum-chewin', cell-phone textin', rap-crap listenin', little hearts. Somewhere over the next 190 days, we get to try to teach them how to read, write, and cipher so when they're forty-seven, a job that pays a dollar over minimum wage is not considered by them as a good job. The world wants their young educated; hopefully, so they live and work enough to contribute to the social security pot so the rest of us can afford canned soup in our old age. The powers measure our success with high stakes tests two years before they graduate and hope that in four years they're wearing a robe and walking down the aisle of the ASU sports arena waving to their family, many being the first high school graduate in the history of their family.

Yep, we're geared to go for Monday. Of course, in order to get to the wood ring (brass is for college, silver is for your masters, and gold for your doctorate) of a high school graduation, we get to deal with literally, sex, drugs, and rock 'n roll. Oh, I forgot, parent abandonment, not enough food at home, working third shift before coming to school, no shoes, water turned off at home, crap for clothes, not to mention pencils, paper, notebooks, pens, or lunch money.

Somewhere in the magic, a kid gets a scholarship to an ivy-league school, then another, and then another, then someone will go to a military academy, jobs, more education. Somewhere in the magic, they become productive citizens and wake up to the fact that the door to life just doesn't open to them, they have to push on it after they turn the knob.

I ran into a kid at a restaurant a couple of years ago. I can't remember my own name let alone a kid I had for a couple of months. He remembered me and we talked for a minute while I waited for my sandwich. Almost as an after thought, I asked him 'so, what do you want to do after you finish college?' He looked at me like I should have been able to read his mind. "I want to be just like you, a teacher." I couldn't remember that kid's name and barely remembered his face. But apparently, at least once, I did something right.

Tomorrow is game day. The biggest game of young lives. Ready? Hell yes I'm ready.