Maybe I’m getting old. I no longer feel the thrill of standing cheek by jowl with thousands of sweaty, sunburnt tourists in tribute to the end of summer; it just doesn’t seem as much fun as it was in youth. Who knows? Perhaps it’s just that I’m cranky thinking about the first day of school.
Today is a stark reminder that the solar activity (heavy again this summer according to some meteorologists) is lending an eerie predictor to yet another brutal winter. While I love the snow, I can forego the negative-10 temperatures with ease.
One bright note is that I am returning to school refreshed for the first time in my six years of teaching. Typically, I work full-time at the end of the school year in a side job in preparation for summer work. This year, however, it was decided that I would not pick up any side work. As such, I stayed at home, while not really getting much done. It was a nice break.
And now that things are – in a flash – back in full-swing, I am cleaning the garage, gutting the house, preparing for a garage sale next week and thinking about the robotics team. Paired with the class load that I’m teaching and two graduate classes, I find solace in sitting back and relishing in dreams of next summer. As the cupcakes will read tonight at the dinner table, “Only 179 days to go!” It’s a tradition.
But what is it about this area that makes us dread going back to school? Is it just our area or is this a common sentiment heard around the world? I remember being a kid decades ago; the first day of school was exhilarating. I was an awful student, and I wasn’t going to school for the education. I was going because I had to, but I got to see many of my friends.
Until recently, I thought I had heard all of my childhood stories, but a new one was shared a few summers ago by my mother with a couple high school students who were working for me.
I was in public school for the first nine grades. Then I was abruptly moved to St. Mary’s to finish my tenure. I was shocked, and my parents explained that they had petitioned Father Kevin, the pastor, and had been given a scholarship. With a single G-man salary and eight kids (at that time five had entered college), there was not much disposable income.
I loathed St. Mary’s at the time, but in hindsight I believe that it is the only reason that I am alive to write this. It straightened me out enough to stay out of big trouble and eventually work my way into college and the military, so for that I am grateful.
But I digress. The bombshell came when my mom told me who actually paid for my three years at St. Mary’s; a neighbor who was concerned as to my well-being. I was floored, because I had never heard this before. Apparently, my behavior had found itself so far off the grid amongst certain members of Ulmstead that a family friend offered to pay for my education as long as I didn’t find out who my benefactor was. Thus, the Father Kevin tale was spun, and I began my sordid term at the school.
I made incredible, lifetime friends during my three years there, and the career paths of these people are staggering in breadth and variety. All in all, I would not trade it for anything.
So I wonder what is going through the minds of my children as they pass on to the bus for the first time this year. Are they happy? Angry? Sad? Anxious? Maybe a little bit of all of these. But today is the icebreaker, so it will be done. Another day will start, and then we will be on the road to next summer, and everyone will be just a little smarter for it.
As a salute to the summer of 2014, there is nothing like a good old-fashioned Crabby Pretzel, a mainstay in Ocean City, to get us in study mode. This is not healthy. This will not fit in your Weight Watcher’s diet, but it will make you smile. And you can forego the sweaty tourists by making it yourself and sitting on the back porch in the beautiful, soon-to-be Autumn weather.
Today is a stark reminder that the solar activity (heavy again this summer according to some meteorologists) is lending an eerie predictor to yet another brutal winter. While I love the snow, I can forego the negative-10 temperatures with ease.
One bright note is that I am returning to school refreshed for the first time in my six years of teaching. Typically, I work full-time at the end of the school year in a side job in preparation for summer work. This year, however, it was decided that I would not pick up any side work. As such, I stayed at home, while not really getting much done. It was a nice break.
And now that things are – in a flash – back in full-swing, I am cleaning the garage, gutting the house, preparing for a garage sale next week and thinking about the robotics team. Paired with the class load that I’m teaching and two graduate classes, I find solace in sitting back and relishing in dreams of next summer. As the cupcakes will read tonight at the dinner table, “Only 179 days to go!” It’s a tradition.
But what is it about this area that makes us dread going back to school? Is it just our area or is this a common sentiment heard around the world? I remember being a kid decades ago; the first day of school was exhilarating. I was an awful student, and I wasn’t going to school for the education. I was going because I had to, but I got to see many of my friends.
Until recently, I thought I had heard all of my childhood stories, but a new one was shared a few summers ago by my mother with a couple high school students who were working for me.
I was in public school for the first nine grades. Then I was abruptly moved to St. Mary’s to finish my tenure. I was shocked, and my parents explained that they had petitioned Father Kevin, the pastor, and had been given a scholarship. With a single G-man salary and eight kids (at that time five had entered college), there was not much disposable income.
I loathed St. Mary’s at the time, but in hindsight I believe that it is the only reason that I am alive to write this. It straightened me out enough to stay out of big trouble and eventually work my way into college and the military, so for that I am grateful.
But I digress. The bombshell came when my mom told me who actually paid for my three years at St. Mary’s; a neighbor who was concerned as to my well-being. I was floored, because I had never heard this before. Apparently, my behavior had found itself so far off the grid amongst certain members of Ulmstead that a family friend offered to pay for my education as long as I didn’t find out who my benefactor was. Thus, the Father Kevin tale was spun, and I began my sordid term at the school.
I made incredible, lifetime friends during my three years there, and the career paths of these people are staggering in breadth and variety. All in all, I would not trade it for anything.
So I wonder what is going through the minds of my children as they pass on to the bus for the first time this year. Are they happy? Angry? Sad? Anxious? Maybe a little bit of all of these. But today is the icebreaker, so it will be done. Another day will start, and then we will be on the road to next summer, and everyone will be just a little smarter for it.
As a salute to the summer of 2014, there is nothing like a good old-fashioned Crabby Pretzel, a mainstay in Ocean City, to get us in study mode. This is not healthy. This will not fit in your Weight Watcher’s diet, but it will make you smile. And you can forego the sweaty tourists by making it yourself and sitting on the back porch in the beautiful, soon-to-be Autumn weather.
Crabby Pretzel
Serves six
six soft pretzels
1 1/2 # crab dip (recipe follows)
6 oz. cheddar blend
Old Bay or JO Spice, as needed
Preheat oven to 400F.
Bake pretzels about 3/4 of the way.
Top with warmed crab dip evenly divided on a greased baking sheet.
Sprinkle tops with cheese blend. Use more if desired.
Bake until cheese is melted and starting to color.
Serve with seafood seasoning on top.
Crab Dip
1# fresh crab meat, shelled
8 oz. cream cheese
1 c. real mayonnaise
1/2 c. cheddar cheese
1 tsp. Worcestershire Sauce
1 tsp. hot sauce
Make sure crab meat is free of shells, ensuring that you don’t mutilate it as you do so.
Warm cream cheese and combine with remaining ingredients. It should be loose enough to fold in crab.
Fold in crab meat gently until incorporated and use immediately or refrigerate.