The Journey Inward

If there’s one thing I’ve gotten better with as I’ve grown older, it’s sitting with my feelings without trying to rush or fix them. And shockingly, I’ve found that when I allow myself to catch and release them, they move through quickly.

July 24th was one of those days. I drove up to school to bring my personal possessions home from my classroom, having retired 10 days prior. With over three decades of accumulation, I had gone up a few times and grabbed things here or there, but today was the last of the sorting, tossing, packing and loading. Friends had stopped in other days, but today it was just me, and I needed that.

I wanted to work amongst the memories of the new teacher with stars in her eyes who practically lived at school. She attended the students’ t-ball games, ice skating competitions, and karate classes. She visited their pumpkin farms, birthday parties and new puppies. She was invited to lunch and pool parties and afternoon teas in the families’ homes.

She met two women who would become some of her very best friends. They talked school, students, and teaching practices, and transitioned from dating to marriage to parenthood together.

She met one woman who became her mentor for everything in life! She was the consummate teacher, always smiling, always gentle. She offered advice when asked and move with grace and dignity. Through her example, she was a role model for how to have soft firmness, how to be a professional with heart, how to be a positive force, a good wife, an amazing daughter and a loving mother.

I thought about the years when I tried new jobs or pitched the 1st/2nd grade looping idea to my principal. I thought of the workshops I lead, the amazing parent I was before I had kids, and the performances my classes put on.

I thought of my return to teaching after being home with my daughters for 7 years and feeling like so much had changed. I thought about the close friendships I made and the teams I worked with. I thought about moving from classroom teacher to Gifted and Talented teacher to Reading Interventionist.

I thought about the many students I’ve had over the years, some I still hear from and some I still see. My classroom walls were covered with photos and drawings and notes from students, as well as cards from parents. I lingered over each and let the memories come.

I laughed at the scolding note my 4th graders left for my future students after they had organized my whole library. I took down each poem that had hung in every closet of every classroom I’d been in since 1991.

I lingered and I savored and I cherished and I treasured. I purged and donated and saved. I chose what to bring forward and what to leave behind. I laid out spirit t-shirts for other teachers to enjoy.

And then I loaded my last cartful and rolled out the door. I took one last look at the room before turning out the light, one of many I’ve inhabited over the years. It was never about the room or the grade or the subject or the school. It was always about the kids. Tears filled my eyes and that cloudy vision held all the years, all the children, all the colleagues, all the friends. I would take them all with me.

I loaded my car and noticed a quote I had put on my classroom vision board years earlier. The words echoed the certainty that I was making the right decision. I texted the pictures to my principal and vice principal, both of whom had been so supportive of me throughout my time in Flemington, but also of this move. I cried as I drove home, letting the bittersweet tears run.