As a self-described foodie, there is no such thing as "too fresh," unless you are talking about my classroom.
Others have blogged about this but it really resonates with me and is also the cause of my funk this week. My class is just too fresh. I don't know them and they don't know me. We haven't set routines and they haven't really grasped the rules yet. We have the beginning of the year incessant talkers (usually my preschool graduates) and the bizarre behavior issues (usually my kids who have never been in any type of a group setting).
Nothing gels, nothing flows. The day is choppy despite my best efforts. It's like the jar of hot fudge in your refrigerator. When you pull it out it's a bit grainy and solid, but give it time, some love and some heat, and you have a chocolaty river of goodness.
I'm just waiting for the river, or even a trickle.
I know there are fabulous kids in this room, I just haven't gotten to know them yet. I'm still looking out the door as my kids from last year pass by -- 2 inches taller -- confident first graders -- and wish they could come back in.
It's the blessing and the curse of this job. You get to start fresh every year, but you have to start fresh every year.