Reflections from Mom: This was always an anxious part of the year for me with Troy. How was he going to respond to his new teacher, new kids, new classroom? These brand new shiny things were not a part of his routine…yet. Troy is also very relational, so if he felt disrespected or triggered by his teacher, he was done. This time of year can be so challenging for every family, so we thought it was important to start off What Would Troy Do during this incredibly important time. And now….back to Troy.

The Calm Before the Storm

You know that feeling when everyone around you is buzzing with excitement about the first day of school? New supplies, new teachers, new possibilities? For me, that first day was never really about excitement—it was about standing at the edge of a hurricane, knowing what was coming.

Let me explain what I mean by the hurricane analogy, because it’s shaped how I’ve come to understand the entire school experience.

Life in the Eye of the Storm

A school year is like a hurricane. You start at the outer edge—it’s rough, but manageable. But as you get closer to the center, things get worse and worse. The end of each semester feels like you’re fighting against the strongest winds, with finals being that brutal edge right before the eye.

The most challenging part? Everyone expects you to enter that storm with enthusiasm each time.

When School Feels Like Prison

I know this might sound harsh, but I’ve always compared school to a prison system. Think about it: the layout is similar, with cafeterias where everyone has to sit at assigned tables while being watched. There’s the bell system—the biggest thing I’ve criticized—where you get in trouble if you don’t respond to that bell correctly.

Bell rings: be here. Bell rings again: move to a new place. Bell rings: now go there. It’s the exact same conditioning you’d find in a prison system. Wake-up bell, breakfast bell, yard time bell.

After being conditioned for nine months, five days a week, for 17-18 years, you start subconsciously doing things—like packing your backpack a minute before the bell rings. That’s textbook Pavlovian conditioning, and it’s not necessarily healthy.

The Problem with Being Just a Number

In most public schools, you’re just another statistic. Your test scores determine what opportunities you get, which programs you’re allowed into, which books you’re permitted to read. I remember being denied access to a funny comic book in first grade because my MAP test scores weren’t high enough—even though I could clearly read and understand it.

The gifted and talented programs made this even worse. Watching other kids get to build catapults and attend exclusively cool field trips while we wrote in cursive (which I still haven’t used since third grade, by the way) was demoralizing. It wasn’t jealousy of the kids—it was frustration at the missed opportunities, all because of a number on a test.

The Weight of Transitions

My most difficult first days weren’t necessarily in elementary school, when I still had that childlike wonder about new adventures. The real challenges came with transitions—moving to a new state in eighth grade, where I knew nobody and had to figure out lunch tables and friend groups all over again. And then college, where I had a complete mental breakdown in my dorm at 11 PM because reality hit me like a truck: I wasn’t a kid anymore.

But here’s what I learned from college: when you’re treated as more than just a number, when you have the freedom to make your own schedule and choices, school becomes bearable. Actually, it becomes liberating.

The Long View

The hurricane analogy isn’t meant to scare anyone. It’s meant to acknowledge that school is genuinely challenging, that those first-day anxieties are valid, and that the system itself has real flaws that need addressing.

Minor changes could make huge differences—like eliminating the rigid bell system, giving students more voice in their education, treating them as individuals rather than statistics. Until then, we work with what we have and remember that you get out of school however much you put into it.

The storm doesn’t last forever. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you find yourself in a place where you’re seen as more than just a number—where you have a voice, where your individual needs matter. That’s when education becomes what it should be: not a prison, but a place of growth and possibility.

Feature My Teacher: Miss Hendrickson

In all my years of school, one teacher stands out as truly exceptional: Miss Hendrickson, my second-grade teacher. She was, quite literally, an angel from heaven.

What made Miss Hendrickson special wasn’t just that she was kind—though she absolutely was. She had been specifically chosen for me because one of her family members had experienced bullying, so she understood the importance of creating a safe classroom environment. My mom remembers her being very protective, especially after hearing about the bullying I experienced in first grade. She also gave me the structure I desperately needed. She told the class on day one: “I do not have any class clowns in my classroom.” I took that to heart and was on my best behavior…for the most part (laughing).

But beyond the safety she provided, Miss Hendrickson saw her students as individuals, not numbers. In a system that often feels impersonal and rigid, she created a space where each of us mattered. She was protective without being overbearing, structured without being stifling.

Looking back, Miss Hendrickson represents what teaching could be at its best—when educators truly care about the whole child, not just test scores and compliance. She’s proof that the right teacher can make all the difference in a student’s experience, especially for those of us who don’t fit neatly into the standard mold.