"Are you sure?"

A couple of days ago, when the topic of my impending retirement came up, one of my colleagues said to me, "You don't sound so sure that you are going." Of course I'm not sure.  When are we ever completely sure about major life changes?

Are you completely sure that you are picking the right college or job or husband or house or time for parenthood?  Major change is such a dreadfully difficult experience that it freezes most people to the bone. Why do you think they invented Xanax?  So here I am on the verge of leaving a place that I have gone to for 183 days a year for the past 33 years of my life, certainly my longest relationship with anyone or anything if you look at it that way, and it has, to say the least, given me pause.

Sometimes I literally walk through the hallways of school and hear echoes of all of my footsteps of most of my adult life.  The colleagues that have come and gone, certainly the thousands of kids that have walked in and out of my classroom, the dances and parties, the pictures with Santa, the days of the championship games.  So many, many memories, mostly sweet, some sort of quiet and sad.

I think of all these things as I am confronted (mostly on a daily basis) about my impending departure.  Remember that there are no bonuses in teaching.  No one will ever put more money your  paycheck because a kid of yours just got accepted to Harvard (and rightly so). You just do it every day and wait for those few and far between times when someone writes you a heartfelt letter or calls or shows up at your door long after he has graduated to tell you how much you did for him and to thank you for pushing him to excel and for believing in him.  And to be completely honest, to me, those rewards have meant more to me than the biggest Wall Street bonus ever could.

I had one of those moments just this week.  I was working the clock at the boys' soccer game, the senior game, where each senior's parents were called up to receive a bouquet of flowers from their son.  Here I was at the timekeeper's table on the sidelines of the field watching the ceremony when one of my students from last year was called to present his bouquet, but he did not have any parents at the game. So the next thing I know is he is walking directly toward me with his flowers and says, "These are for you."

Will I miss those bonuses? Of that I am most definitely sure!

"To toss or not to toss?"

As I sit here after just completing the first week of school, I am reflecting on the thoughts that I have had this week.  Firstly, I am wondering just how I plan to make it through a whole 5 days starting next week.  I am simply exhausted.  Maybe it's my age, but I did notice that my younger Facebook friends have all been posting that they are "pooped" as well.  I know, I know, all my non-teacher friends are now shaking their heads in disgust, but believe me, it is pretty hard to put on those shoes and perform in a non-air conditioned room when you've been at the beach for two months.

However, what I really want to focus on in this blog is how much I have been thinking about throwing things out, about casting off. Unfortunately, I have a serious problem with the act of the casting. One of my department colleagues has actually called me a "classroom hoarder," saying that he fully expects to see me on A&E someday. My husband cringes every time we attempt to clean out the garage or the shed or the closets, as I continually cry out, "No, I need that!"  I must admit that I do indeed have several "mild" hoarding characteristics.  But who says it isn't it normal to keep real ditto masters from thirty-two years ago?  Or my favorite peasant shirt from junior high?  You never know when you might want to use those things!!

Actually, there have been many, many occasions when my fellow department members will come by to see if I have a certain book or handout or exam, knowing full well that I most certainly do. (They have already planned to raid my stuff as soon as I decide I am definitely leaving.)  Education just lends itself to hoarding.  Everything old is ALWAYS new again in my profession.  Skills good, skills bad, portfolios good, portfolios bad, testing good, testing bad, hands on learning good and so on and so on and so on, for the past thirty years.  Just last year I was happy to know that I had saved all the old, old English Regents materials because the new, new English Regents has very similar aspects to the old, old English Regents, and I HAD ALL THE OLD, OLD STUFF!

So this week I have been feeling so strange every time I finish a lesson.  I just don't know what to do about all the things I know I will have to clean out by June.  I know that I may never have to use my "Get Acquainted" stack of handouts again, but I just can't bring myself to toss the folder, seems so wasteful, so final.  Then again, I sure wouldn't mind tossing those four sets of summer reading essays I got on Friday.

The Last First Day???? Part Two

It is now the beginning of September, the 4th to be exact, so we are dangerously close to the dreaded "first day of school," a day that has lived in infamy for me personally for almost all of my life, with the exception of probably about six years total!

When I was a little girl I was horribly school phobic (go figure) to the point where I once ran all the way back home in the rain after my mother had dropped me off at school.  So beginning the new school year with trepidation has had a rich and storied history for me that lingers to this late day.

Usually starting about Thursday of the week before school I get "that feeling," that nagging little disconcerting feeling that something is just not right, and as Labor Day weekend ensues, I become progressively more and more out of sorts, not a debilitating fear, just a nasty little prickly sensation lurking right beneath the surface of my skin.  I try to put it out of my mind by keeping busy, planning activities, going to my beloved beach, but as soon as I slow down, there it is, that sinking feeling that used to be, as a kid, full blown nausea.  For those non-teachers out there, imagine the feeling of starting a new job after being out of work for two months, but this new job, from moment number one, requires you to be at top performance strength, and has you working on a daily basis with what an old colleague of mine used to refer to as "unfinished persons." For my fellow teachers, especially the new ones, I wish I could say it goes away after a few years, but I'd be lying to you.

So why the dress?  Well, one of the ways that I have developed of coping with that miserable first day feeling is to make sure that I have my "first day of school dress" ready to go to work with me. (This year I bought it in June because you know those crazy season rushing department stores.  I can't exactly wear a woolen dress on September 7!) You know how you always feel better in a brand new outfit, one without any memories attached to it?  A clean slate.  Who doesn't enjoy the feeling of cutting the tags off?  It gives you a little lift just to know that even if you don't feel so good, at least you look good, in the paraphrased words of the old Billy Crystal Fernando Lamas Saturday Night Live parody.

On the morning of September 7th, I'll wake up at 5:40, cut off my tags, choke down a quick breakfast, and start what just might be the last first day of school of my entire life, and I'll be thinking of how much I'll enjoy the Labor Day Weekend next year.  Hell, I might even go to the U.S. OPEN!