It was around 1:30 this afternoon when I flicked the three light switches down and closed the door on Room 275, which was, for the first time in 30 years, empty of my personal possessions.
Of all the keys on the ring that I was about to turn in, my desk key gave me the most pause. That tiny piece of brass had been mine since August 1993, and when I cleaned out the drawers, I removed a few things that had been in there almost as long.
Empty room, empty desk... it really was time for me to go.
Ever since she turned 55 in November, Heidi has been dying to order off the "55 and Over" menu at Denny's. I get it-- in 11 days, I'm planning to gleefully apply for my lifetime National Parks pass, a perk of making it to 62.
Anyway, Denny's is not a regular on our radar screen, and until yesterday, I had no idea where their nearest location was. But driving down a road we travel very often, my attention was drawn to a nondescript strip mall. "Remember when that was a Chilis?" I asked Heidi, pointing to a storefront. "It's a Denny's now."
Denny's!!!
And so a plan was hatched. We would go for breakfast the very next day and Heidi would last be able to take advantage of her rightful privilege.
Except...
It was a rather disappointing experience. Our friend Mary joined us, and the three of us agreed: the atmosphere was as expected; the service was terrible (we waited over 20 minutes for eggs and pancakes), and the food was not that good either. Even the 55 and over menu was limited and not much of a bargain.
There was a silver lining, though. We launched a little breakfast club. The three of us are going to check out all the morning meal options we can between now and August 19. Maybe you saw our first post on Instagram? If not, don't worry-- there will be other installments!
I spent the day in my classroom unloading drawers and cabinets full of memories. Along with my digital files (which I'm working on copying since I will lose access to them at midnight on my birthday), these things—these files and papers and artifacts, teaching tools, professional books, and school supplies—represent my life's work. Even so, it was surprisingly easy to appreciate them one more time and then let them go.
"You know it's not too late to change your mind," the assistant principal said as he surveyed the jumble of piles and the half-full dumpster parked outside the door. For a moment, I considered the offer and imagined teaching my class in a much emptier room.
"Thanks," I said. "It is tempting, but I think it's time."
Or at least it will be on Thursday when I finish this gargantuan task!
When I first started teaching, pre-service week was right before Labor Day. I worked furiously to prepare my room and lessons for the new students coming the next Tuesday. I remember thinking that a three-day weekend was wasted on me then because all I wanted was to get the first day over with.
This year, although school for students and teachers ended Friday, today is a holiday for 12-month employees. It is Eid al-Adha, and schools are closed. I have completed my teaching duties, but I still have to clean out my classroom and submit some end-of-the-year paperwork. I'm feeling impatient to finish up, and this three-day weekend has been wasted on me.
It occurred to me that this lovely, dry weather that I have been enjoying even as I've had one of the most eventful and emotional weeks of my life is not at all good for a garden. It also occurred to me that I have a garden, and it probably needed some attention.
I was right. Two weeks away at the beginning of June is not an optimal plan.
Pretty sure next year will be different.
To celebrate my retirement, some neighbors took us bowling this afternoon. It was a fun way to kick off both the summer and the less structured days ahead for me. We had five adults and a two-year-old in our party, so we got adjoining lanes, one with a bumper and one without, and we took turns throwing balls and chasing the kid around.
After one round we took a break, snacked on some fried bowling alley cuisine, and chatted for a bit before returning to the alleys for a second go. This time we logged the adults in one lane and the toddler in the other. In between turns, her parents helped her use the kiddie caddy and roll her ball down its ramp. As she was bowling, I noticed they still had the lane set for three, so I stepped to the screen and deleted the extra games.
"Good thinking!" her mom said. "That will save us a few bucks."
"Well," I answered, "I am retired now. I know every penny counts!"
"I really only have one regret," I told a small group of colleagues half-jokingly at our end-of-the-year staff party yesterday afternoon. "It's that I was never on the morning announcements."
For years I have told students that The Announcements is my favorite show-- it has everything: news, inspiration, bloopers, and kids I know; it's the best 10 minutes on television. Once and a while, a teacher would do a guest appearance as a broadcaster, and on those occasions, I would cross my fingers and hope that someone would ask me to be next. "Have you ever been on?" my students would ask then, and I had to sadly shake my head.
But yesterday when I expressed the same regret, another teacher whipped out her phone. "It's not too late!" she said as she texted, and a moment later she reported, "You're on for tomorrow!"
I literally leapt for joy at this unexpected turn. Then a little while later, in another conversation, I was reminded of one other thing. "I also always wanted to be the Yellow Jacket mascot," I admitted to the assistant principal.
"We can arrange that!" she said. "What if you go down to sixth-grade lunch tomorrow in it?"
I was thrilled! My last day of teaching was shaping up to be an amazing one, filled with dreams come true.
And it was! Being on the announcements was really fun; the kids on the crew were happy to have me, and I did a respectable job. Plus all my former students saw I had finally gotten a spot on my favorite show, and they congratulated me all day.
Before I suited up as mascot, I read up on the job, and I was well prepared to dance and wave and give high fives and hugs. It was also an amazing experience. At the end of the day, I stood at my desk as a few colleagues came in to say good-bye.
"How are you doing?" asked one.
"Pretty good," I answered. "I can honestly say I've done everything I ever wanted to do at this school."
"Well, that's the way to leave," he said. "You've done it right."
