Starting over is never easy, but sometimes it’s the bridge to better things.” was a quote that I saw on a bulletin board when I went to Atlanta last year on a business trip. How prophetic those words are now. I was just so nervous about this new venture, but it was too late to turn back now.

“You’ve got this,” I muttered to myself, pulling my white Prius into a parking spot outside the school. I needed a cup of coffee at that moment with an added boost of confidence.

I was so nervous and felt like I was going to toss my cookies right there in front of the crossing guard; the sweet grandmotherly guard wearing her neon-green vest waved to me. She had seen me coming and going over the last few weeks as I had set up my classroom. “Good morning, Jean,” I yelled. She smiled and waved back. “Good luck today, Amber! You’re going to be great.” I thanked her and headed in carrying a cardboard box filled with supplies. I had really enjoyed going to the teacher’s store and loading up on markers, pens and highlighters.

It gave me that back-to-school excited feeling that I had when I was a kid.

Setting up my corner classroom helped calm me and make me feel somewhat good about this new adventure. I had lost 10 pounds of cellulite off of my size 10 thighs, which now proudly managed to wiggle themselves into a size 8. This was an added bonus to this whole thing. Day after day I schlepped the endless boxes of books that I had collected as a child, and had found some old Nancy Drew and Little House on the Prairie books in the dollar rack at the library.

I had read my older cousins’ LHP books and fantasized about being Laura Ingalls Wilder, ringing my giant school bell and having students bring lunch in a metal pail. I figured if I mixed those in with a few Diary of a Wimpy Kid books, maybe the kids would read them. I am forever grateful to those teacher groups that I found online. They were chock full of good ideas and advice. I searched on Pinterest for some classroom ideas too.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

I put up bulletin boards over a few days. First the colorful paper had to go up. It was a challenging and tiring process. I needed help with it because every time I unrolled the light blue paper and stapled one corner down, it would roll up from the other end and smack me in the face. Joe, the big, burly bearded custodian (think Santa) came in and helped me so many times I felt I owed him one. I have a total newfound respect for all that everyone does in a school. It takes a village to run these places.

I had my roommate Tara, who was studying to be a chef, whip Joe up some oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. He looked surprised when I handed him the floral paper plate filled with cookies oozing with chips. In all fairness, I did sneak one in the car, but he still had a heaping plate full. Tara’s cookies were to die for.

“What’s this for?” he asked in his gravelly deep voice that seemed to get an octave deeper with this surprise.

“Thanks for making my classroom awesome,” I reply. Did I just notice him wiping a tear?

Joe looked at me with gratitude. “Thank you,” he exclaimed. He smiled a smile that met his eyes and then attacked the cookies. Crumbs got stuck in his Santa beard, but he could care less. He walked away munching his heart out with a wave of thanks.

Nice guy, I thought to myself smiling. Really nice person. It’s going to be alright, I convinced myself. I’ve got this. I want to do this, fresh start, make a difference. Forget Chase. Forget Chase.

I mean, I handled every single request for three demanding lawyers for five years. I can handle setting up a classroom with cute little Reading is Cool and Kindness is Contagious bulletin boards. I was excited to see the boards coming together, and the classroom going from drab to bright.

Right after Joe left, I managed to staple my new acrylic pink gel-polished pink nail to the bulletin board. I was aiming for a smiley emoji reading a book and got my finger instead. After a slew of curse words, I called it a day and pulled my now-broken nail off with a painful yank. I visited Cora Lee at the nail salon on the way home who gave me a bit of “tsk tsk” about the damage that I had done to her work of art. Then, she proceeded to grind and file. Ouch.