Without question, last Friday was the most difficult day of my entire 17-year career.
And that’s going some. When my father was terminally ill, I soldiered on. The day after I lost a friend to breast cancer last year, I was in the classroom and somehow managed to make it through the day. I’ve lost students and colleagues – difficult days, all of them – but somehow, in each case, I made it through.
Friday was a different story. It was the end of a politically charged and emotionally draining year for Wisconsin’s public school teachers. A dear friend who has been teaching for longer than I have, and who still gets excited like a first-year teacher whenever a new idea or lesson goes well, remarked that she has never been so eager for a school year to end.
Our final faculty meeting included a number of very emotional moments, among them a Skype conversation with a colleague who has been battling leukemia as well as humbling, kind words of farewell to faculty members (myself included) who had resigned to pursue other opportunities. Leaving Homestead was the most difficult professional decision I’ve ever had to make, but the long-term prospects for teaching German are much brighter in my new district.
Besides, unlike many people, I still have the opportunity to keep teaching.
I think of Homestead’s Fabulous 14, a lineup of deeply respected colleagues who were essentially backed into the retirement corner this year as a result of the sweeping changes in Madison.
I’ve been to plenty of retirement parties before. Most of them have been for teachers who were ready to do something different or who simply wanted to spend more time with their families. A few of them have been for teachers who probably should have left a year or two before they did so.
But until this year, I’d never honored a retiree who wasn’t really ready to go. At our district retirement celebration, I spotted an elementary teacher who was doing her best to keep her “game face” on, but I recognized her smile as the kind that people wear when they’re trying not to fall apart. I never met this teacher personally but I wondered how she must be feeling. Teaching has been her life – and now what?
During our faculty meeting, as I scanned the front row of the lecture hall, looking at the people who were leaving, I wondered who among them would have really chosen to retire right now if the circumstances had been different. They were taking over 300 years of experience with them. There was not an embittered one in the bunch. They’re still all gifted educators. A normally articulate English teacher struggled to find the words to describe her feelings. An eloquent social studies teacher read a written statement, pausing several times to collect himself.
Some contend that the mass retirements in schools across the state will make it easier for fresh young talent to make its mark in the classroom. That may well be true, but every successful teacher will tell you that they weren’t able to achieve that success alone.
Who will mentor that young talent now that 300 years of wisdom just walked out the door?
