Retirement, Year Two

Freshly sharpened pencils, cute and colorful name tents, classmate name word search…tables are ready. You survey the room and straighten a magnet, pick up a stray staple from the floor and hear excited voices approaching. The first day of school has begun…for others, but not for me as this is my second year of teacher retirement. And I slept in. Do I miss it? You bet! There is something refreshing about being able to start all over again, every year. The previous year was swept away and those fresh faces now before you await the magic of learning…at least, you hope so. You hope you can be all you need to be, and more, for every student in your care. I will not say I loved every minute – no teacher would be crazy enough to say that – but mostly the good outweighed the bad…at least until it did not and I retired to save my sanity and well-being. My first year out was a little tough. Living two minutes from my former school, I had a difficult time driving by during the first several months of the new school year. I did not want to search the parking lot for familiar cars, or see teachers or kids I knew out at recess. It felt weird, so weird, to no longer be a part of the school cycle. Part of me did want to drive by and give the middle finger to one person in particular but I could not do that, having too many people still in the building that I liked and admired. So what was the first year like? In a word…lonely. When you are a teacher, especially in open concept schools like those in my school district, you see and talk to other adults on a regular basis. You have things to talk about (share, discuss, complain, commiserate…). When I retired, I was told how luck I was – that I could sleep late and do whatever I wanted when I wanted, such as go to the bathroom, talk on the phone, or go out to lunch. I was assured that we would stay in touch, that I would be invited to happy hours and lunches and more. That did not happen. At all. I was invited to one happy hour before the school year started and then…nothing. No phone calls, emails, lunches, happy hours, or even subbing at bunko. Now, I completely understand how easy it is to be so wrapped up in your teaching job that all else becomes background noise, even your own family at times. However, I also felt “out of sight, out of mind,” as if I had dropped off the face of the earth. And it hurt…well, still hurts. After all, I was at Hamilton for nine years; I thought I was a piece of the fabric of the school. Until I was not… I did not set one foot in Hamilton again until the end-o-the-year retirement party honoring the current year’s retirees – I could not bring myself to visit. I was openly welcomed by many of my former coworkers and openly snubbed by my former principal. Then I realized what had happened. Even though I worked my behind off at this school, for years involved in many activities and committees, I really was not important. I was taken for granted. I would be there, work hard, work late, share and give – that became “me” and my identity. But I was not a social animal before retirement, so nothing changed after retirement. The invitations I did not receive while I was working turned into the invitations I did not receive afterward. And whose fault was that? Well, mine of course – I had been too busy working and too introverted to put myself out there and on others. And so my retirement has been, too often, lonely. Thank goodness for my great friend, Mary Bardwell, who sees to it that I am not left alone all the time!! Lunch, movies, running errands…she lets me know I am still important, at least to her. And I know I should not whine. After all, if I were to be invited to a lunch or happy hour with a group of teachers, what would the conversation be about??? School, of course – the students, the other teachers, the administration, the parents, the expectations, the funny stories – none of which involve me any more. And yet, it hurts… What saved me was being asked to be a Title 1 reading tutor at Walker, the school I taught at before Hamilton. I was truly welcomed with open arms, from staff that knew me way back when and newer staff whose students I tutored. I actually have people asking when I will be returning and “friending” me on Facebook. What a switch…to be liked for “me,” not for what I am and what I do. Do not get me wrong – this is not meant to discount my years at Hamilton and the friends I made there. I loved teaching at Hamilton and there are certainly times I wish I were still there. However, what truly made my decision to retire a necessity was the principal at the time, one who is - fortunately for the school - no longer there. She was not well liked but unlike me, most staff at least pretended to get along with her. I could not pretend. I do not have room in my life for people who do not behave ethically or with integrity, who encourage staff to “talk” about other staff members, who does whatever it takes to be on top, who discounts what teachers know to be “best practice,” who refers to older & experienced teachers as “doilies” – nice to look at but old-fashioned and pretty useless. I did not retire BECAUSE of her, but having to deal with her certainly contributed to my final decision. Through her actions and my reactions, I began to doubt myself as a teacher. Perhaps I had a very small part in her leaving the district, by reporting her unethical actions to TEA and to the district. I know I was not the first – or the only one – to do the latter. I like to think that her actions finally caught up with her…as evidenced by 19 staff members requesting transfers out of Hamilton last school year. Had she left Hamilton earlier, would I still be teaching? Possibly. No, probably…I truly enjoyed teaching, enjoyed connecting with my students and seeing them learn and grow, enjoyed sharing my love of Texas history. I do miss it. I miss being part of a greater good. I miss being a part of something…