Making the Lasts Last

Have you visited your old elementary school? Have you returned to your middle or high school and said hello to the ghosts in the hall? As you waxed nostalgic and remembered yourself as a child, did you wish you could try again and relive some of those moments? Perhaps you were relieved they were solidly in the past. Yet, both the challenging and the beautiful experiences reach forward in time to grab and engage us. We do not live wholly in the present.

It is so tempting to wish away the days so we can arrive at an anticipated time. We can’t wait for our birthday, vacation, or a holiday. I tell my seniors not to look past their last year of high school.

As I look forward to retirement, I don’t want to wish away my last year of teaching high school either. I want to savor it. I want to fully experience and appreciate my year of lasts. Of course, I have never done this before. I have graduated from high school and college. I have experienced “last” moments, but none with this kind of weight.

Our jobs do more than keep us busy. We are so consumed with the to-do list and getting the job done (and done well) that we may not be aware of the moment. Time really does fly, not just when we are having fun, but when we are consumed by activity. There is nothing wrong with this. However, that is not the way I want to spend this year.

I don’t want to do a countdown. I don’t want to scratch each “last” off the list like barriers to the final reward. Rather, like a delicious meal, I want to fully enjoy each morsel. I want to make each course last.

I will not miss grading papers, but I will miss the intellectual challenge of engaging with students’ ideas. I will seek that kind of stimulation and conversation in retirement. I am very aware of how challenging it can be to help a student formulate an argument, assemble evidence for it, and develop and structure all of these. After conferencing with a child, I sometimes feel like I have run a marathon. I am out of mental breath and need a moment before the next student sits beside me and we run again. I think that kind of  “exercise” keeps me mentally fit. How will I find it in retirement?

One way I am slowing down time is with photographs. I am taking a photo every day to capture this last year. Sometimes, I am carrying my camera with me.  Sometimes, I use my phone. I know that being the photographer pulls me out of the scene sometimes. I am hoping to be able to be both the painter and painting, the subject and the object.

The primary way I want to slow down my last year is by spending time with the people who are so important to me: my colleagues, my students, and the many people that make being in a school so vital and wonderful. As with most endeavors, it is about the relationships – and I don’t want to retire the relationships when I retire from the job.

I am like a senior, but I am not a senior. Am I a super-senior. I didn’t take five years to complete high school, I took more than thirty! Yet, I do identify with my class of 19 peers, both the group retiring with me and the students who will walk across the stage at graduation. But I am not ready to visualize that moment yet. 

Writing is a good way to reflect and slow things down, too. Just as I learned how to teach, parent, partner, and many other important parts of life, this year, I am taking my time and learning how to retire.

The Solace of the Classroom

October was a challenging month. Both personally and nationally, the end of October has been almost overwhelming. My stomach has been in knots, and I have had trouble sleeping. Yet, life goes on, the bell rings, and the kids come in: time for class.

I have learned that when I walk into a classroom, whatever emotions and attitude I convey will be reflected back at me and magnified by my students. While some kids will empathize with a teacher who is having a bad day, more often class doesn’t help. I have learned to put on an actor’s face and pretend during times like this. This week, it was both a challenge and a comfort to put on that mask.

But once I had my class face on, I found that a beautiful transformation occurred. As I worked with students and explored the lesson, I forgot my troubles. The kids are far more immediate than any of my issues. My stomach settles down. My anxiety takes an intermission, and I feel good. I am purposeful and focused – and those wonderful classroom moments remind me why I chose to do what I do.

As a student’s eyes light up with understanding, or one student kindly assists another, or I watch as a student become immersed in the literature, I borrow some of their wonder and joy. Every day doesn’t look like this, but when I am fighting that darkness, my students’ positivity is a powerful antidote to the troubles beyond the schoolhouse walls.

I am a realist. Escaping into a classroom and playing theatre games or analyzing a novel does not make the problems go away. It does make me more able to face them. It does put things in perspective and helps me see the real importance of teaching.

Could it be that the reflection of emotion and attitude works both ways? Could it be that, when I put on that game face, I am really reflecting my students’ feelings and engagement? While the teen world is full of drama and angst, for most kids, I am grateful that it pales in comparison with this past month. I borrow a little of their positive energy. They help heal me, and I teach them! What superb gifts we give each other!

Throughout these past difficult and challenging days, many of the moments that have felt the most normal and wonderful have been in the classroom with my students. What will I do next year? I will live from the memories and reach out to my friends and alumni. The moments may be fleeting, but I can store up some of these moments and benefit from them later- and I can share them.

What a blessing it is to be a teacher!