I’ve been retired for two weeks. Since we went on our trip to Michigan and just got home, I have been at home and on my own for one day. So far, so good.
My husband, family and friends made a huge deal for my retirement. My teaching partner, Jennifer, and Karl my husband threw a wonderful party for me – we danced and ate and laughed with many precious people. My sister came from Texas, my son came from Virginia. I learned to dance to the Whip/Nae Nae song with some of my students. The school district had a reception for all those retiring which was also a nice recognition. I’ve received flowers and cards and gifts from friends and students, a sweet and thoughtful gift from the staff at my school. I’ve felt really loved and appreciated.
Even so, my last couple of days as a teacher were difficult – because the end of the school year is always hard. Saying goodbye to kids I’ve spent the last 180 days with is always a wrenching experience. Certainly it was hard because I was well aware that this was my last few days of teaching. While I am really confident and comfortable with my decision to leave, change isn’t easy. The last reason it was difficult was because my principal totally ignored me (and the other staff and teachers who were leaving our school). She skipped over any kind of mention of us at the last school assembly, and she didn’t say even one word at our last day of school faculty luncheon. Nothing. She didn’t say goodbye or thank me for my service – she just sent me a terse email reminding me to turn in my keys. I realize that not everyone has been gifted with social skills, but even so, it was hurtful.
The reality is that in the past two weeks I’ve been healing from that wound, and since it was a deceptively deep cut even as I tried to ignore or laugh it off, the healing has been slow. Saturday, I had a chance encounter that restored me back to perfect health. I was at Lowe’s buying petunias (my yard really looks nice now!), and happened to run into Mr. Morris. Now Mr. Morris is one of those extremely important people in my life. When I was in high school, he was my teacher and, more importantly, he was the faculty advisor for Future Teachers of America Club. I know that God made me a teacher, but Mr. Morris encouraged me and helped me know that teaching was what I wanted, too. Anyway, I happened to run into him at the check-out counter. He hugged me and then I told him that I’d retired. His first and immediate reaction was, “What a loss.” We stood there a moment and he repeated it. “What a loss.” Then, he turned to the check-out clerk and explained that I had been his student and then I’d gone into education. He elaborated a little that he was proud of me and that I was a wonderful teacher.
Later, last night as I was thinking about my encounter with Mr. Morris I realized that the hurt of my last few days of school was gone. He said the absolutely perfect thing. Encompassed in those three little words was his conviction that my efforts had been important. That’s what I needed to hear. Once again, thanks, Mr. Morris!
