An Honor

I had forgotten about the "quick staff meeting" after school when my friend Mary asked me if I was going. "It's about you," she said.

Although I had really been too busy to even consider it, it made sense. Our school has a tradition of presenting retiring staff with a silver silver Jefferson cup engraved with our dates of service. 

"What about Ann?" I asked, mentioning another retiree.

"She's settling on her house," Mary answered.

"Maureen?"

"She left two days ago."

And so it seemed like I really would be the focus. Fortunately, there were only a few minutes left until the final bell and then the meeting, so I practiced a little deep breathing and returned to my room for the end-of-the-day circus.

When a little while later I made my way into the theater, I was surprised by the number of colleagues who had actually stayed late on the second to last day of school. As I took my seat, I tried to relax. In the first 30 years of my career, I can honestly say I never cried once, but the last couple weeks of year 31 have been very emotional.

The meeting began with our principal saying a few words about the tradition and then looking around the auditorium for the other retiring people. As she said his name, a French teacher entered late, and they had a brief exchange about his six years at our school. Then she read the dates on the other two cups, from 2006 and 2007 to now, and those of us assembled applauded in appreciation.

There was only one box left on the stage and my ears roared a bit as she began to speak, the breathing thing wasn't really working either, and I felt my eyes begin to fill. There was a gasp when she read the dates and noted that my entire career had been spent at our school. Then, when she started up the aisle toward me, I knew I had missed my cue. I stood quickly and met her by the stage, thanking her as she handed me my cup and gave me a hug. 

When I turned to go back to my seat, all my colleagues were on their feet in a standing ovation. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I bowed my head in thanks. Once they were seated, I raised my voice to speak. "This has been one of the hardest decisions of my life," I said. "It's my fault we're having a staff meeting on the second to last day of school because I didn't even tell Ms. B. I was retiring until last week!" I paused.

"It has been a joy and a privilege to have worked here the last 31 years. Thank you all." 

And when I sat down, I was not the only one crying.