The Journal

I'll tell you a small secret about myself: in my house, the holiday season starts in August.
Not officially, I know. But somewhere between the school-supply aisle and the first morning that almost feels cool, the year leans forward. New notebooks. New teachers. The start of football season (in this house: Geaux Tigers). The long, shapeless days of summer start to gather themselves into something with edges again, and I love it.
My kids love it too. By August they are, frankly, bored, and what they're hungry for is exactly what school hands back to them: structure, their friends every single day, things to look forward to. I think we forget that back-to-school is allowed to be just as joyful as the start of summer break. We talk so much about the nerves (and the nerves are real; we'll get there) that we skip past the part where a new school year is one of life's great fresh starts.
That's the part I want to sit with for a minute.
When I was in college, the new semester was my favorite thing. Whatever had happened in the spring stayed in the spring: the grade I wasn't proud of, the habits that had slipped, the version of myself I'd worn a little thin. September handed me a clean slate. I got to decide, again, who I was going to be. Not because anything was erased, but because something new was beginning, and beginnings are generous like that.
You don't age out of this. The school year is a second January, and it belongs to everyone it touches: the kindergartener, the senior, the college student, the teacher, and the parent standing in the driveway.
So, a few words for each of you.
To the parent of the kindergartener, or the high schooler. Your child can be thrilled and terrified in the same breath, and so can you. Those aren't contradictory; they're both true, and naming both out loud ("you're excited AND your stomach hurts; that makes sense") does more to settle a nervous kid than talking them out of either one. Let the excitement be real. Let the nerves be real. Neither one needs fixing.
To the college student. Take the clean slate; it's yours, no matter what last semester looked like. And if you're heading into rush week and a full social calendar, here is the thing I wish someone had said to me plainly: balance isn't a schedule, it's a set of relationships. The one you have with yourself, the ones you have with your people, and the one you have with your chapter or your campus life. Any of those can be healthy or unhealthy, and you're allowed to notice which is which. A full calendar that costs you your sleep, your grades, or your sense of who you are isn't belonging; it's a lease on someone else's version of you. But when the balance is there, lean in and enjoy it, because the friendships and experiences that come from your sorority or fraternity can be some of the most amazing of your life, the kind you're still telling stories about decades from now.
To the parent whose house is about to get quieter. Sending a child away, whether to kindergarten or to a college three states over, is a real loss folded inside a real gift, and you're allowed to feel the whole thing. Feel the feelings. Hope for the best. And then do the bravest thing parenting asks of us at this stage: trust your child to their teachers. Someone else gets to pour into them now. That was always the plan, even if it doesn't feel like it standing in the driveway watching them leave.
To the teachers. You're starting a new year too, and you're the only person on this list expected to hold everyone else's fresh start while having one of your own. Please put your own balance on the syllabus. The version of you that's rested and resourced in October is worth more to your students than the version that spent August proving something.
A few things worth tucking in the backpack:
And if this season is carrying more dread than fresh start for you, if the clean slate feels less like a gift and more like one more thing you're supposed to feel, you don't have to sort that out alone. Helping people through transitions is the heart of what we do at Novel Wellness. New chapters are our favorite kind. Request an appointment →