We were on our way out to run an errand this afternoon when we bumped into a neighbor. "This is the last Sunday afternoon errand of the school year," she reminded us. "After next week you can do your errands any day you want, all summer long."
We laughed in agreement, but then she cocked her head and raised her eyebrows. "Or any day you want, forever, Retiree," she said to me.
Heidi and I were talking about my impressive collection of fidgets and what might happen to them upon my retirement. "I'll definitely take them," she said.
"I know I use them more as toys than fidgets," I told her, thinking of the yo-yos, speed cubes, flip sticks, pop tubes, whizzzzers, and assorted balls both squishy and bouncy that reside on the corner of my desk, "and the kids are really just allowed to use them during breaks."
"That's true," she agreed.
"But they do love them," I added. "And sometimes they try to sneak them to their seats at work time. And sometimes they literally beg me to use them while they are working." I laughed. "Can I pleeeeeeaaaaaaase just have this Rubik's cube with me while I write?" I imitated a desperate sixth grader.
"What do you do?" she asked.
"It's a lot like the bathroom situation," I shrugged. "I can tell by their faces if it would actually help and if it will, then I let 'em."
I wasn't surprised this morning at 5:30 when I flushed the toilet and it didn't fill; we have been having a bit of trouble with a sticky float cup, although I thought I had finally fixed it. I sighed, lifted the heavy porcelain lid from the tank, reached in, and jiggled the assembly. That usually does the trick, but today the toilet remained silent, no matter how vigorously I pumped the float cup. It finally occurred to me that perhaps it wasn't a mechanical issue at all, and I reached over and twisted the cold water handle on the sink.
"We don't have any water," I reported to Heidi who texted the neighbors immediately. One by one they reported in, and we realized the problem was pretty widespread. A little while later, someone sent a social media post from an adjoining HOA informing us of a water main break just a few blocks away.
Downstairs in the kitchen, I started my morning routine. The kettle had been filled the night before, so I made coffee and emptied the dishwasher which had completed its cycle before the outage. I wet a paper towel with a little of the filtered water we had in a pitcher in the fridge and used it to wipe my fingertips as necessary while I packed lunches and prepared breakfast.
I relaxed when I realized that except for my morning shower, our preschool procedures could be conducted as usual. It was then I received the community alert that the road to school was closed because of the repairs. "How can schools be open?" Heidi wondered as we realized the scope of the impact. But there was no word from central office so we headed off on a detour route to work.
Once we arrived we did find water flowing, but even so, the news of delays for other schools arrived quickly. In fact the start time for the building that is no more than 50 feet from ours was pushed 2 hours. How is it possible for your school to stay open when the elementary school is closed for a water main break? a friend texted from home because her high school right down the road was also closed.
But it wasn't possible for long. First, the county issued a boil water order and the administration closed all the water fountains and bathrooms assuring us they could make that situation work. But a few minutes later we received official word that we were closing in an hour.
It wasn't pretty, and when at last the students were all on their way, it was clear that our organization could use some organization.
As we wrap up the final unit of the school year, where students interview each other, choose an angle, and write a journalistic profile, some kids have got it, and others are really struggling. It doesn't help that the end of the year is close and somebody somewhere in our school has given them the impression that they no longer have to work.
I learned long ago that the closer we can stick to routine up until the end the better it supports students in managing their behavior, and that's the way it is in my class. Today one of the kids who hasn't written much sat next to me trying to put together some ideas. Her assignment was me, and I asked her for the tenth time to choose a focus.
"I want to do teaching," she said.
"Well, ask me some questions about teaching," I prompted.
"Do you like teaching English?" she started.
I paused, suddenly overwhelmed. "I do," I answered.
"What do you like about it?" she asked.
"I love spending time with kids," I said, "and I like reading and writing." I shrugged.
"So, is this the perfect job for you?" she continued, typing my words on her iPad.
I hesitated again; for the first time in 31 years, I was unsure of how to answer. I decided to keep things simple.
"Yes," I told her, "it really is."
The radio in the car squealed with a familiar emergency broadcast tone and a mechanical voice recited the National Weather Service message that there was a tornado warning in our region. The sky above me looked innocuous enough, there were even patches of blue in between the gray clouds, the storm was rushing in another direction, and I soon understood that the threat was not imminent for me, but the urgency resonated even so.
It might have been otherwise.
Somewhere, nearby, the wind was picking up and the sky was darkening. People were weighing whether they should evacuate their homes, retreat to their cellars, abandon their cars, or otherwise find shelter. I wished them all the luck in the world. It could have been us, but it wasn't.
It's been 24 hours since I notified my principal of my intention to retire, and I still can't talk out loud about it without getting choked up.
Count on teachers to recognize the value of verbal processing and wait time, though. Every colleague I've told has said they were happy for me and sad for our school. Then they waited until I was composed enough to talk about why I decided to retire now and what might be next for me. Each of these conversations has helped reinforce my certainty that this choice is right-timing for me.
Even so, like every day in the past couple of months that I have been wrestling with this decision there came a moment when I was sure I should change my mind. "I guess I can still go tell the principal that I've changed my mind," I observed to a friend.
"I won't let you do that to yourself," he said firmly. "You've made the right choice."
Fortunately, I was convinced, because he was big enough to stop me!
"I wrote about you!" a student told me today.
"I can't wait to read it!" I answered.
She is sometimes the best teacher I really like doing fun stuff with her sometime she helps me with my assignments which is really helpful and they get hard but I can always try by myself but I can’t so I ask her I love when I do jolly ranchers challenge and sometimes I get it right she does sit at her desk and then make a funny joke she has one rule about save the tape which nobody listens to her she yells at a lot of people when they don’t do the work she have a lot of toys that I play withLesson : if you have a favorite teacher have fun with them
