I really can't wait to go back to school.
I'm sure those of you reading this now want to either slap me or send me a bunch of Michael Scott reaction images if passive aggression is your niche. This is not satire. Every morning I ingest a heavy dose of cynicism laced with a pinch of 100 percent done-ness before I go about my day, but this time I am writing with the utmost sincerity.
I'm kind of embarrassed to admit that I've always been that one kid who, after only a month of being on summer vacation, is ready to get back into the full swing of all things academic. It's like when Buddy the Elf says that he only needs 40 minutes of sleep before going about his elvish duties--that's the level of crazy we're dealing with here.
While other kids were splashing around at the beach or getting prepped to beat their high scores on Playstation, you could find me perched on my living room couch learning about rock formations, practicing the piano, playing fast-paced spelling games, or soaring through chapter books. While the wails of the youngest among us pierced the American landscape as the back-to-school commercials began to air, nervous excitement coursed through me and, subsequently, I was a very active participant in the annual trek to the store for school supplies.
Granted, I did have a relatively normal childhood. When I wasn't learning new things, I was running around outside, swimming with friends and marathoning reruns of "Spongebob Squarepants." But I also had strict parents, namely my mother, whom my sister and I could count on to post our daily schedule of chores and activities that were expected to be completed when school was out. She made sure we were retaining the skills we'd previously learned through worksheets and encouraged us to stay one step ahead of our classmates through interactive LeapPad learning.
My parents soon discovered, however, that pushing us wasn't really necessary because we were intensely committed to our own academic success. My sister: the walking encyclopedia of animal biology, computer programming, our solar system, and all things STEM, and myself: the crusader for literature, history, and all things argumentation, were quickly shattering the stereotypes that we, as little girls of color, could expect from society.
The significance of our accomplishments was impressed upon me even further as I made the transition from high school to college. Those of us who take our education seriously can simultaneously take it for granted. When I reflect upon the slaves who would blush at the chance to become literate. about free black children who would practically race to the schoolhouse during Reconstruction, or about heroes like Malala Yousafzai who were willing to die in order to let girls learn, I think about how easily accessible my education is. Like many American kids, I comfortably followed the educational track from elementary school, to middle school, to high school, and finally to college without a second thought.
I now understand that when I'm bent over my hodgepodge of notes and readings in the wee hours of the morning, my brow furrowed and the bags under my deep-set watery eyes, I can muse upon the mountainous and menacing trail left by those who came before us, and annex my own footprints on finely-formed and newly-tread sand. This is what going back to school means to me.