Let's be the first day of school!

I'm the kid who wonders what that white glue in the little squeeze bottle tastes like.

I’m a bullet proof backpack. Inside me is an emergency Valium and some jellyroll colored pens.

I'm the groan heard when teacher says "let's go around and say one fact about ourselves so we can get to know each other better!"

I'm the syllabus and list of rules and supplies needed which will be crumpled and thrown away never to be read.

I'm the Facebook photos in front of the house with the cute signs.

I'm the hopeful feeling that all of your friends will be in this class with you. I disappear when you see all the strangers and people you hate walking in.

I'm the reunion with Carlos, the hot janitor, behind the boiler.

I'm the hot steaming urinal cake in the un-air-conditioned restroom.

I am the ecstatic DL fat whore who can once again go to ice cream parlors, malls, amusement parks and day time movies without looking at overindulged kids and tweens.

I'm the suddenly popular girl who lost 80 pounds over the summer and gained new confidence in herself.

I'll be pregnant by Thanksgiving.

I am the underside of the classroom desk, that already has gum, spit wads and the nose contents of the little brats.

I am Anna’s cooties.

I'm the vice principal reminding students that clothing should be appropriate for school now that summer is over.

After the announcement I'll leer out my window at all the teenage girls wearing yoga pants.

I'm the pissed stained pants from being so nervous.

I am the little square pieces of cardboard pizza on the lunch line, which will be remembered fondly thirty years later.

I am the cute little gay kid, who spent 30 minutes picking the perfect combination from the Gap Kids outfits mom got me—so I can treat the schoolyard as my runway.

I'm the middle school boy who returns to school proudly, having sprouted pubes over the summer.

I’m the teacher, knowing full well that the kids will never be as well behaved as on the first day of school, but I’ll take it.

I'm Reading Group D, and I'm pretty sure "D" is for "dumb".

I’m the excitement that lasts about two hours into the first day.

I am the chalkboard that wishes I had fingernails to scrape across my surface, just to get everybody to STFU.

I'm the fat kid.

I think now that we're all in grade nine everyone will be mature and less cruel.

The moment I walk into homeroom someone will shout out, "Did you spend the whole summer eating?"

Everyone, including the teacher, will laugh.

I’m the colorful ensemble from JC Penny that looked great in the ethnically diverse advertisement, but is making this child look like a jackass.

I'm the shy, awkward kid who has no clue where to sit during lunch because I don't have any friends.

I am the teacher’s apple holder, sitting empty, because these days brown nosers and little suck ups give mugs, candles, gift cards—and shitty handcrafted trinkets. .

I am the text book that will be held in front of a crotch to hide sudden onset erection

I’m the new nose.

I am the cool 7th grade girls who are working out how to be like the kids on "Euphoria". We will be in a closed group on myspace, because no one will look for us there.

I am the dick pic Snapchatted across the school, causing controversy on Day One.

I'm the earrings and Caftans that Mrs Mauer wears to class

I’m Cara. I used to be known as Clark.

I am the principal. I give an encouraging speech on the first day about new beginnings, new chances, wisdom is power, blah, blah, blah. I say the same thing every year and then turn the education of the students over to the bitchiest, most incompetent educators I've been able to hire.

I'm the new, shiny metal lunchbox with an insulated thermos that sports the lastest tv show. In 30 years, I will be found on Ebay at a price 50 times the original price.

I am the argument with my mother about "why don't you wear something that doesn't say 'New York Mets' on it? At least for the first day."

I am the massive eyerolls she gets in response from me and my brother.

I am the morbidly obese paraprofessional in polyester slacks. I smell like rotten tuna and hard boiled eggs.

I am the smug look on my face as we pass kids I know who don't go to progressive schools and thus need to wear goofy looking uniforms.

I am the nasty look and subsequent lecture I get when we pass a kid I don't particularly like and shout out "nice uniform!"

I am the argument on the next block about why I get into trouble for shouting "nice uniform" and my brother doesn't because he's younger and I'm the instigator.

I'm the substitute teacher. I will not show up today. But in a few weeks, I will be on the receiving end of every bad thing that 30 undisciplined brats can think up in 45 minutes.

I'm the sense of dread, despair and overwhelming anxiety that is felt when the realization that another school year has started sets in.

I'm the introverted high school freshman to whom the next four years might as well be 20 years.

I'm the Trapper Keeper folder system thingy who sounded like a good idea but who will be discarded after two days because I'm actually not helpful at all.

Hi!!!!

I'm the girl who loves, loves, loves, just LOVES everything about school!!! (Don't you???)

Emotionally I will remain an adolescent for the rest of my life because I peaked during my teenage years and as an adult I will still dress like a preppy teenager and probably find a job within the educational field because I can't function in any other environment!!

I should never become a teacher because I am not helpful to the students who do not love school, I hate those types, I want them all expelled and I have no idea how to motivate them because it is their fault that they do not love school!

P.S. If I have kids, I'll be a cool mom, not a regular mom! (My kids will grow up to be crippled, entitled narcissists who cannot function on their own in the real world!!)

I’m the unblemished Pink Pearl eraser.

I'm the plastic protractor.

I’m the pregnancy test strip in the girls restroom, lying on the floor, next to the lost tears of youth.

I'm the kid with the boner looking in awe at how jacked Tommy Jasper got over summer break.

I'm the slide rule each kid was told to buy and I will remain unused in my packet.

I'm the boring annual refrain from the class teacher asking the pupils to write a short essay about their summer holidays.

I'm the vomit absorbent and deodorizer masking the smell of someone's back-to-school breakfast upchucked on the carpet in the middle of pre-algebra class

I’m the graduate teacher who will be flavour of the year until next year’s graduates arrive.

[quote] I'm the kid with the boner looking in awe at how jacked Tommy Jasper got over summer break.

I'm the boner Tommy Jasper gets when he remembers being sucked off over the summer break for the first time by a cool young camp supervisor also called Tommy.

I'm the clacking of the femme fatal lady teacher's heels on the tile floor, progressing confidently along the corridor to charm another year of senior boys by bending over and gently leaning her breast on their shoulder while pretending to observe their work.

I'm the bitchy assistant principal who hands out dress code violations like trick or treat candy to popular girls because I am jealous of how skinny, young, and pretty they are.

I'm the middle aged once cool teacher who has slowly seen my popularity erode. It all started last year when a student called me "Corky" because I look like the retarded kid from that TV show. It's only 1990 and I already hate the 90s.

I'm the Rubbermaid bin locked away in the nurse's room. I hold all the Aderall, Pamprin and other good shit that tempts the nurse all fucking day long.

I'm Andrew and I bare a striking resemblance to Glenn Scarpelli.

I'm also flaming and do nothing to hide my obvious gayness. I know what other kids say about me, so why should I hide what I am when they'll just talk shit about me anyways?

Only one teacher likes me, the spinster music teacher, the rest of the teachers hate me and have no problem making homophobic comments in front of the class.

I'll befriend a new kid over our mutual love of Pet Shop Boys and never judge him for being closeted. I'll stay friends with that fat kid until I move to Toronto after graduation.

In 1991 I'll die of complications due to AIDS. I will be sorely missed by that once closeted fat boy whose life I changed simply by walking up to him on September 4, 1986 and asking, "Don't you love the video for West End Girls?!"

Very moving, R55 (aka the fat kid).

[quote] Must of taken all night.

Oh ,dear!

[quote] I bare a striking resemblance

Oh, dear again!

I am the un-air conditioned building still baking in the summer heat. My occupants can't wait until the first cold front moves in, not likely until October.

I'm the school resource officer in a southern state community, composed largely of African Americans, who's just frothing at the mouth to arrest 15-17 year olds so they can be railroaded into a for-profit, privately run prison system, for nothing more than acting out the on antics of a restless, anxious teenager.

MAGA!

^^ *acting out ON THE*

Dang, R59, that was a little too on the nose.

I'm the suburban soccer mom in a full face of makeup, yelling uncharacteristic obscenities at the school parking lot traffic attendant when they politely tell her she can't fully park, get out of the car, pick up Braxtyn and Keightlynne and have a 5 minute conversation with Tayden and Zaylee's mother on the sidewalk.

I am the kids sweltering in their brand new winter sweaters on a broiling September morning.

I’m R55 Andrew’s crabs.

No R61, R59 is close to the noose. Also, slavery is legal in prison under the Constitution. The Thirteenth Amendment (Amendment XIII) to the United States Constitution abolished slavery and involuntary servitude, except as punishment for a crime.

Vomit absorbent and deodorizer????? I LOVE the smell of you R48!!!!!

I'm lost! I'm lost! I'm lost! Where is my first class??? The bell is going to ring in 45 seconds!!! (Please don't direct me to the janitors bathroom like those mean seniors did.)

I am the EpiPen carried in the fannypack of the skinny asthmatic allergic to everything kid.

I'm Jeffrey Epstein, scheduled to address the entire school on the first day.

I'm Ms. (pronounced MIZZZZ) Brown the new PE teacher and girls tennis coach. I drive the diesel F-150 parked by the back dumpster. I'm best friends and roommates with Señorita Reyes, the Spanish teacher. I teach in Alabama, so we are only friends subletting an apartment. I will be out of my job at the end of the year with no explanation given.

Lmao, R69, that happened in my elementary school. The lesbian PE teacher ran off with one of the teachers. It was a big scandal at the time.

I am one of many rainbow pencil gifted by the confirmed bachelor uncle. My tip will now be used to erase mistakes and no longer to dial telephones.

R69 / R70 my PE teacher ran off with my mother.

I win.

I am all the parents in the Northeast wondering why their friends in California and Florida keep posting back to school shit when it's still the middle of summer.

I am the ruler in the hands of little Spencer, who is busy measuring the other kids’ shoe size.

I’m the girl who got boobs over the summer. All the boys are getting really shy and quiet around me.

Except the gaylings R75 who will loudly congratulate you for what they will come to hate.

R68 Dear Mr. Kotter, Please excuse Jeffery for being absent on the first day of school. He's dead and therefore unable to attend. Signed, Epstein's Attorney

Dear Mr Attorney, could you attend on behalf of the estate please as it seems we may have some questions.... Kotter

I'm all the colored paper leaves or red apples lovingly cut out by hand by the elementary teacher with the student's name on it to identity their desk, hook or cubby.

I'm the long divorced mom of two whose last kid has left for college. I'm sitting at my desk feeling rather proud, when my son calls from Massachusetts to say he can't find his class and doesn't know what to do. I'm in Florida...not sure how to help you, I say, being a good mom; he calls back 5 minutes later. Right building, right room, wrong day. Football mimbo, my son is a football mimbo.

I'm the meatball sandwich being eaten right out in class by the fat bad girl!

I'm the lost and found box sitting empty on the first day, but soon to fill up, as children who come in the morning when it's cooler then in the warmer afternoon forget their extra layers and leave them strewn behind all over the school. I will become crucial when someone wets their pants and needs replacement clothes, hopefully there will be a pair of sweatpants in me!

I'm the meatball sandwich that my father put in a thermos so it will stay warm.

The cool girls will make fun of the kids who brought lunch from home, so I lie and say it's coffee in the thermos, but only decaf.

I'm the outside portables. I'm too hot when the weather's warm and too cold in the winter. Each student will pray to God that they don't have to spend an entire school year inside me.

[quote] I'm the lost and found box sitting empty on the first day, but soon to fill up, as children who come in the morning when it's cooler then in the warmer afternoon forget their extra layers and leave them strewn behind all over the school. I will become crucial when someone wets their pants and needs replacement clothes, hopefully there will be a pair of sweatpants in me!

I am the sheer shame.

I’m in the back of the equipment supply room.

Come smell my spawn!

I'm the journeyman speech therapist listening for boys with sybilant "Ss" knowing that they will grow up to become homosexuals.

I’m the kid who accidentally calls the teacher mommy. I am so embarrassed that I want the earth to just open up and devour me whole.

I’m the game of 7-Up the teacher is already having the kids play, on the first day of school, so she can shop for frau things online.

R89 ha!

I am the fat kid’s underwear. I will not be removed, even when the gym teacher tells us that we all have to take showers.

[quote] I am the teacher’s apple holder, sitting empty, because these days brown nosers and little suck ups give mugs, candles, gift cards—and shitty handcrafted trinkets. .

Actually they give Starbucks gift cards-- and once, a liquor store gift card, which was much appreciated!

I am the pack of cigarettes found on the floor in Ms Silcox‘s classroom. Ms Silcox will find me and spend the entire first day of physics making a teary speech about how her mother died of lung cancer, and how she cares too much about us kids to let that happen to us. Because of me, the students will be forced to look at pictures of Ms Silcox’s mother in her last days, streamed from Ms Silcox’s phone to the screen. At the end of class, Erica Pound - Jane Derrick’s - best friend will distract Ms Silcox while Jane swipes me from Ms Silcox’s desk.

Jane and Erica will skip next class and smoke the joint Jane hid among my cigarettes.

I'm the hot third grade teacher. My skirts are too high, and my tops are too low. Instead of studying for my Masters over the summer, I went to the beach every day and got a lot of dick. Half the dads will come on to me, but I only take them up on it if they're seriously hot.

I'm Mrs. Santos. Last year I was Mr. Santos. There will be many emails exchanged back and forth between parents and the school principal about me.

I walk home from school, which gets me out 15 minutes early, so I never get to play @r89

I'm the email in the teacher's inbox, informing the teacher of all of little Hunter's learning differences and allergies.

I'm the nice kid in 8th grade sitting in the back next to Nick.

Nick is the tall, lanky blonde geek with coke-bottle glasses and acne who's smiling at me while I watch him flex a big boner in his slacks as his legs stretch out under the desk.

I am the first day of school. I was last week. You won't see me again until next year, way too early in August.

I am the same pissy teacher that you had last year. Your grade school got clever and since you're such a big class moved her from the 5th Grade to the 6th Grade.

She will now write the same mean spirited shit on your report card that she wrote last year. "R100 is too focused on drama and needs to focus on his school work." Look, bitch, the Evita album is the best thing I've ever heard. I ain't got time for your silly math problems. Miss Patti LuPone is singing!

I’m the fat gay nerd. I have read everything ever written. Soon everyone will hate me, including the teachers. In a few years I will be correcting grammatical mistakes on DL.

I am the fall fundraiser announced in the first assembly.

You will sell more or you will not get metal detectors. And after Parkland, you know one school resource officer will not cut it.

R100, my 5th grade teacher was moved to 6th grade with my class.

But she was the best teacher I ever had, so you must be talking about someone different.

I am Mr. Colgan's amazing ass. Mr. Colgan is married and completely heterosexual, and it's been said that it's a fucking shame that a nice bubble butt like me is wasted on a straight guy. I am the object of intense daily scrutiny by Mark, who sits in the front row of Mr. Colgan's 10th grade English class. One day Mark will be walking past me in a very crowded hallway and will "accidentally" bump into me, with the back of his hand going halfway up between my perfectly shaped buttocks. Mr. Colgan will scarcely notice this blatant feeler-uppery, but Mark will duck into the boys' room, where he will sit in a stall and masturbate, shooting a load up to his chin within 15 strokes. And he will never forget what that hot ass felt like, even through a pair of well-fitting khaki trousers.

I'm the full bush that came in over the summer. I can't wait to get into the locker room and show it off.

I'm the new kid - again. I move around a lot. This is my 5th new school in 8 years. My parents and other adults tell me to walk up to kids and introduce myself, but I know this is not how the kid-world works.

I will spend the first few months keeping a low-profile until I get the lay of the land. I avoid overly-friendly classmates as I know they are probably social outcasts and it would be best for me not to be associated with them.

My shyness will be mistaken for being aloof or mysterious. No child is mature enough to know how to easily fit in with new kids year after year - particularly when they have known each other their whole lives.

Bullies will prey on me until I get in with a good crowd.

I will move again in a year or two and repeat the cycle. It damages me for life and I can never fully trust people or establish long-term friends.

Thanks, R106, now I’m crying. I’m going to the nurses’ office to pretend to be sick.

I am the cafeteria lady. I have no waistline, itchy compression stockings and the cartilage in my serving hand is non-existent. These miniature pizzas I’m serving remind me of the pimply foreheads on these little heathens.

I'm the only gay in the village.

I resent R109 for assuming he is the only gay in the village.

I'm the feud between two English teachers that reignites today. It makes the students uncomfortable when they badmouth each other.

I go to a school that was set up for gay kids only. After a week I wonder how Dan Savage is going manage to get awards and/or a book deal out the fact that instead of being bullied by straight kids I am now getting bullied by other gay kids.

I'm the paleontologist who won't reveal the major professional fuck-up that brought him to having to teach 10th grade science in order to survive.

Im Miss Woniki, the nasty lunch who will take the tray from a third grader if they forgot their lunch money

I'm Corey, this is my first year, and most likely my last at this school. I was expelled from the high school on the other side of town for my temper. I got in trouble for killing my neighbor's cat when I was 12, but my dad, who is the big lawyer in town, got that off my record.

This past summer, I went to a gun show in the red state just east of us. Got some cool shit there.

I hate my teachers, hate the gay kids, hate the popular kids, hate the Hispanic kids and hate the black kids.

I'll be typing my manifesto soon in Mr. Lombardo's 3rd period Comp Sci class.

I'm the naive but well-meaning first year teacher who tries to reach out to Corey, thinks Corey's only problem is low self-esteem.

I'm the box of benadryl that was left in the locker of the boy who wanted to get high during school and consumed 10 pills just to see what happens. The boy lasts all of 60 minutes before passing out, head slamming onto desk, during 4th hour creative writing. He's suspended for a week and loses his title as Class President.

R112 needs his own thread. I thought gay schools were suppose to be an oasis of inclusion and support.

I'm the effeminate history teacher who makes Liberace look butch. I look like Joseph Kearns and dress like it's the 1950s, the decade I'm obsessed with.

I'll go on and on about my "darling wife" and children--all daughters--and talk about being the only male in a house full of females!

Everyone will snigger and make jokes about me behind my back but no one will are say anything out loud.

Once again I will take a shine to a new boy and my attention will border on stalking and I'll make inappropriate comments about his anatomy and the virtue of his girlfriend.

And once again I will make the fat ugly kid's life miserable.

I forgot my speedos for PE swimming class. I’m forced to run laps around the school oval in my underwear as punishment. In full view of the rest of the school.

I'm the early 30s "Digital Literacy" teacher. It took me 8 years to complete my journalism degree because I fucked around and failed to uphold any structure or discipline thanks to my neglected upbringing. I'm bitter and take it out on the weaker students. I will be forced to resign in the middle of the year when rumors of me viewing porn during class start circulating. I'll spend the remainder of my 30s as a server at Appleby's before making the lateral career move of Assistant GM of a Bennigan's.

I am the apple Buffy, 6th grader brought in to brown up her teacher

I'm the pretty young female teacher who will inevitably fuck several students this year.

I am the kid in gym class who is staring at R105's new bush. I want to touch it sooooo badly.

I am the magic marker little Tony sniffed all morning. He just asked Mr. Hopkins, the handsome new math teacher, to disco dance with him.

I am the inspirational quotes displayed on the classroom door. How many fucking geniuses can one room accommodate?

I’m the mom whose kids just ran for the bus, uncorking a lukewarm bottle of white wine and chugging it in blissful silence. I will be drunk by soccer practice at 2:30!

I’m the stiff pair of slacks and sweater your mom bought at Penney’s. I will be worn once and never seen again!

I'm the fat kid.

I'm wearing sweat pants and an ill fitting t-shirt.

My father refuses to spend money on clothes that will fit me simply because that will take away from his beer/smokes/lottery tickets.

I will be made fun of by everyone.

I'm the sense of anticipation mixed with dread during drop-off as kids gravitate toward their cliques in their brand-new backpacks and sneakers. The smell of promise is in the air, but by next week, it will be replaced with drudgery and sorrow.

I'm the gentleman bachelor French teacher who lives in a studio apartment on the outskirts of town. I have beady eyes and a shifty demeanor.

I'm Scott. I finished grade 7 as a cute blond haired blue eyed boy who loved GI Joes, WWF wrestling and "Weird Al" Yankovic.

I've returned in grade 8 as Scorch. I've dyed my hair jet black, I'm wearing a Metallica t-shirt and toys and wresting are for fags.

I'm the bass player in a band with guys in their 20s.

I'll get a girl in grade 11 pregnant and get expelled for punching the principal.

I won't be back for the first day of grade 9.

I'm Miss Milligan, the brand-new 6th grade teacher! I am FULL of enthusiasm and am eager to educate the young minds of America! I drink 100 cups of coffee per day and my right eye twitches for no apparent reason! I might actually be a robot! HELLO CLASS!

Much love to you, R55.

I'm Alan.

Last year I was a headbanger who was friends with everyone. I was a nice guy and I was genuinely liked by everyone.

This year I'm a prep who wants to join the football team and unless you're popular and your family is wealthy I will not be friends with you. I will alienate and ridicule all my old friends.

I will parlay my new connections into good jobs and one day I will be president of the local factory based on nothing more than my friendship with one of the owner's sons.

One day a guy I was friends with will show up at my huge house doing a food delivery. I will glad hand him and act like we've been best friends for years and then make a big production about giving him a $5 tip.

The funny thing is, back in 1985 he told me you can't get anywhere in life without connections, so I owe all my success to that one conversation we had over the summer.

R55 Thank you so much for writing that. It was both heartbreaking and fucking beautiful. I'm still crying. (I know, Mary! Whatever.) It reads like a short story or screenplay. if you haven't written one already about your friendship, I encourage you to do it. I think it would very successful.

I'm the sturdy pencil-eraser nipple buds on the Wood Shop teacher's chest. He doesn't have to wear a shirt and tie, so the fabric on the teacher's polo shirt grazes over us every time he moves his body to use a tool. The eyes of Billy, who dreaded the class, are affixed on us. He's guessing how big our areolas are. He's also taking in the chest hair inside the open collar.

Billy had to go to the nurse's office after he cut himself (just a little) with a coping saw. He actually wanted to return to the class, badly.

I'm Melani, the former cheerleader who married a former football star who now manages his father's car dealership. I'm PTA President, head of the junior cheer squad: "Yell, y'all! Y'all yell!" Teachers fear and hate me; my own children are embarrassed by me. I'm super passive aggressive to all the working moms for "having" to have jobs.

I'm the main entrance of a blue-collar suburban high school where a sign above the doors loudly proclaims "What I Learn Today Will Best Prepare Me For Tomorrow", thereby convincing the student who, reading it for the first time, assumes that those words are a great truth. He does learn a LOT during those years, but most of it was outside the classroom.

Algebra...I don't need no stinkin' algebra!

I'm Sting.

Right now you will know me as Gordon Sumner but I will later go on to become one of the most pretentious and insufferable celebrities the world has ever seen and I will mention that I used to "teach" in order to further my image as a great intellectual. I will conveniently forget to tell people that I was a substitute gym teacher and secretly laugh at the public for buying into my coke-fueled self-importance.

"I'm the pretty young female teacher who will inevitably fuck several students this year."

I wouldn't say," pretty," but it IS Kentucky.

I'm the school's outdoor LED display. The weather today is 84ºF. Welcome back, students! Go Panthers! Lion's Club FREE senior breakfast is THIS Saturday at 9AM. Drive safe!

I’m some kids going to a Scientology school that aren’t sure they’re even at a school.

I am the horrible smell of cooking emanating from the cafeteria.

[quote]I am the horrible smell of cooking emanating from the cafeteria.

You think you can make barf on a bun better than me? Well get your scrawny ass in here and do it!

I'm Jason, the new PE teacher this year. I'm a 5'9" fire plug, age 27, with nice thick legs and some round, hairy pecs. Oh yeah, I grew a beard over the summer. My girlfriend loves it. At the end of my day I shower at the school, and wouldn't you know it, but the same sophomore always seems to show up. He's a bit nerdy, but nice, but why is he always here at the same time as me?

I'm the brown shopping bag paper used to make covers for your text books.

I'm the kid with a difficult-to-pronounce or otherwise funny name, dreading the first roll call.

"Gym Shoe?"

R16, there is no space in "GapKids."

I’m the kids whose first day of school were ruined by the teacher’s strike.