I don’t remember ever “enjoying” back-to-school time, but in my high school years, I didn’t mind it much.
Music/Band, Science, World History (American History seems so much more interesting now for some reason, but back then I loved learning about ancient civilizations)
The Catholic grade school I attended served delicious food. The school’s church was of an Eastern European bent, so the ethnic influence was “Slovak,” and the menu was full-on comfort food; rich, flavorful, and perhaps a factor in the myocardial infarction I suffered at age 32. I only remember avoiding the stuff made with cabbage, which everyone knew was coming the moment we arrived in the morning. Fortunately, they thoughtfully served porcupine balls alongside the halupki.*
I am a parent of 4, one of which is an elementary school teacher now, while the youngest starts middle school this year, and I’ve always hated when it’s back-to-school time for them. Our summers are spent bonding during travel, recreation, etc., mostly on our own terms, whereas school time brings rigid schedules, logistical constraints, performance expectations/anxiety, and a list of other interactions we could all do without.
Grade school, no. In high school many relationships were forged on a foundation of music-making, and lasted longer, but there is really only one that endures with meaning. Unfortunately for him, I’m much busier than he is, and my obsession with my household means I generally suck at being an adult friend.
*14.228 worthless bonus points for anyone who can explain the meaning of this sentence.