The kind of September

As the last seconds of September, 2013 whizz past us, I am reminded of the iconic and wistful song from the Mad Men-era theatrical fable, The Fantasticks, in which “El Gallo” sings,

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow.

Wait a second! (I slam on the brakes in my mind and scream mentally again) Wait a second!!!

Slow and mellow??? September?????

In my always increasing days on earth, I don’t know if I have ever experienced a slow and mellow September! I know, I know, it’s not a reality-based show, and it beautifully sets up the line to come: when you were a tender and callow fellow. But as I was driving into Amman for dinner with lovely former colleague Annabel and her husband Tim, I hummed the tune, thinking about the end of this month, and the image of a slow and mellow September just made me laugh. Thinking about Septembers past then made the 30-minute drive go a little faster!

In my lifetime, four of my Septembers have been in a brand-new school for me, eagerly trying to adjust to a new building, new policies, new children, new colleagues, new curricula, new sets of politics and lingo. A first month in a new job setting is hardly slow and mellow!

In my lifetime, two of my Septembers have been as a brand-new student in graduate school, both stuffy Ivy League universities which are not by nature terribly welcoming, even though both schools have officially been welcoming students for nearly 300 years each. The graduate school life is intense, and each time I had to adjust to missing the teaching-school life. You feel 8 again as you look for new friends with whom to eat lunch and hope it will turn out as well as life in the 8^th grade did.

In my lifetime, 26 of my Septembers have been the first month of a new teaching year. September is always like “New Year’s” for teachers, but that first month is crucial as you diagnose each student, attempting to gauge exactly what each one needs from you so that the rest of the year can be spent tailoring every single thing to meet particular needs and help each child soar beyond where they were on that first day of said “slow and mellow” September. Exciting? You bet! But fraught with the painstaking work that something major is at stake—September is the crucial month of the year to earn trust and respect in the classroom. Slow and mellow??? Ha!!!

In my lifetime, well over 40 of my Septembers have been spent in school, in general, going from pre-school all the way up—and while “back to school” always means new clothes and new possibilities, think of what it also means: the loss of old friends or old colleagues, new settings where you just don’t know every nook and cranny, the resumption of old habits and old grudges, the very real possibility that 6^th grade might be demonstrably and impossibly harder than 5^th grade, the fear that those 9^th graders really do beat up the 7^th grade boys every day, the fact that as President of Studio Choir in 12^th grade might be more than you bargained for, the fact that each year you assume a little more responsibility….hmmm…slow and mellow…in what universe?????

In my lifetime, 19 of my Septembers have witnessed the beginning of plays I am set to direct. Ahhhh…directing of plays, one of the most delightful and tense things I have done as an adult. The thrill of picking the perfect play, planning the rehearsal schedule, casting those very fragile egos, fretting over the sets, crunching numbers to try and buy enough costumes, hoping against hope the theatrical stars will align, and watching your baby unfold…a nail-biting and thrilling exercise, and the antithesis of slow and mellow!

In my lifetime, 31 of my Septembers have meant being away from my home base of Cincinnati. I have not lived full-time in Cincinnati since graduating from Western Hills High School in the Reagan era, but I am never spiritually far away from my family. Each September is a reminder that after a beautiful summer, there is that jab of pain to leave my family and go to Denison or North Carolina or Brown or Columbia or New York or Jordan.

In my lifetime, four of my Septembers have been in a position in charge of the faculty at a young school. Sure, it is like the beginning of sleep-away camp as you plan for their excited arrival, but then that first month with the ex-pats, as they adjust and speedily or not unpack from their long journey, they chafe and assimilate, and no, it is not mellow hoping that they all fit in and do well and figure out the life of a KA teacher.

Even in childhood, which of course as the song plays in your head is supposed to be rosy, the words sing,

Try to remember when life was so tender
That no one wept except the willow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That dreams were kept beside your pillow.
Try to remember when life was so tender
That love was an ember about to billow.

But even in childhood it wasn’t that wistful. Each September brought about new lessons and new situations and new hardships. But…but…but…while the words to the song promise that
Deep in December, it's nice to remember,
The fire of September that made us mellow

there are so many exciting things about this first month of autumn. For one thing, September is full of important birthdays for me, from childhood friends on upward, but two notable birthdays are the days of my iconic teachers, Miss Wilson and Mrs. Schneider. Each September, just two days apart, are the birthdays of two of the greatest teachers I have known. Miss Wilson taught me in the 5^th  grade and Mrs. Schneider taught me choral music in high school. I called each of them this past month, on their day, thanking them for the millionth time for their influence, their gifts of precision and care and deep meaning, and their legacy. Thank goodness for a September for the opportunity to thank them.

I don’t know if a September has passed in the last quarter century when I have not been thrilled and grateful to get to be a teacher. I think it is the fact that it is decidedly not slow and mellow that makes me enjoy the process. The other day at sit-down lunch, a senior asked me if since I have been at KA for a long time, am I bored here now?? "Never, my dear!" School and the process of figuring out school is never boring, and never slow and mellow…

Soooooo, if the Schmidt and Jones ditty from The Fantasticks is totally wrong about September, then what song might fit? What is the mood of September? How should we regard September? Is there a good song for September? As I drove back to campus after my wonderful reunion dinner with Annabel and Tim, I thought about what my mother would say about September. She would probably have mentioned the importance of harvest, that we are in the season of harvest before a long winter (hints of the “Deep in December” line from “Try To Remember”).

But everything with my mother was deeper than just the surface. Every lesson was more than an expedient end of a moment---everything was setting up a better way to live. No wonder I learned so much from her about the beauty and ephemeral nature of life itself. So I am driving back to campus thinking of the concept of harvest, of the fruits and bounty of harvest, and I can hear my mother asking, “So what have you harvested lately? What kind of September is it for you because of your own personal harvest???” Oh, she would definitely have asked that one! And she would have launched into the beautiful metaphor about harvesting and reaping, nodding in a wise way about how we “reap what we sow.”

Instead of the plaintive “Try To Remember,” my mind darts to another song, much less slow and mellow, but the upbeat, old 19^th century gospel hymn, “Bringing In The Sheaves.” So as I drive down the airport road from Amman to campus, I am humming and singing the old words:

Sowing in the morning, sowing seeds of kindness,
Sowing in the noontide and the dewy eve;
Waiting for the harvest, and the time of reaping,
We shall come rejoicing, bringing in the sheaves.

That is a more fitting song for September! Nothing slow and mellow about sowing and reaping. The writer was inspired by the words in Psalm 126:6, "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him.”

That’s a pretty good kind of September…