The end of an era
On Wednesday, May 22, I had our last staff meeting of the
year—for me the last staff meeting ever. I had planned it as a celebratory end
of the year: review of end of year duties, announcement of transitions and new
staff, soliciting of volunteers for committees for next year, a space for
community schools and field day. It closed with an EOY share out—participants
were asked to share a word that defined the year and express gratitude for
anyone there. As appreciations were mentioned I realized that this was the last
time this was happening and I wanted to be here with this crew one last time
and partake of the flautas that had been ordered. I realized that I had to
prioritize saying goodbye over the standing meeting I had scheduled right
after.
And with 6 days of instruction left, I am looking forward to
my retirement with anticipation and grief which have noticed in the past few
months. The anticipation is heighted especially when I have to deal with a
problem—a coverage for a class, frustration with the glacial speed of Central
Office Departments, solving budget issues, sheer exhaustion, failure on
deliverables or sheer exhaustion—"this is the last time I have to deal with
this" I tell myself.
But beneath the stress and exhaustion, there is grief. Being
an educator has been part of my entire adult identity—37 years—it has provided
me with purpose and meaning. It has also provided me with a social outlet than
my introverted nature does not necessarily incline to. I have been blessed to
have had a pretty good run in education. And now that chapter is closing and I
need to close up the last loose ends—it is as if I am on my death bed trying to
leave directives for when I am gone.
I realize that I have to let go. Longfellow will thrive and
do well without me. It will not fall apart. I look forward to unstructured time
and not being sleep deprived, but I also know that a part of me will die. And
this is what I grieve. The loss of the delight and beauty of being an educator,
to be privilege to witness growth, ah-ha moments and occasions of joy and
laughter. I expect and hope to be transformed to something else. I will find
time to make art, travel, sleep, be with people and find meaning in other ways.
