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Friday, September 23, 2011

"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!

2 comments:

Unknown said...

Aw! You have to retire so you can start your baking business for real!

Erin (Out on a Limb) said...

That just made me well up, Fran. I know you have left your mark on thousands of students over the years. I can speak (or type)with certainty and say that you have left a lasting impression on your colleagues, too.

xo