Last Bell

 After a week with sporadic meetings and check-ins with school, I have reached the point in my career that my wife has observed is my "last summer vacation." 

This hits harder than I thought it might, considering I set this Wile E Coyote process of retirement in motion nearly two years ago, and I am still a year away from making it in any way official. There is a part of it that I recognize in that I have always started off June with a certain amount of anxiety. How can I possibly fit all the fun and relaxation that I need into two short months? The sound of a ticking clock is hard to ignore, and I wonder if I will ever fully silence it.

I am used to answering the bell. One of my jobs at school is to stand out on the playground on most recesses and remind kids that playtime is over and it's time to line up. In this way I am the de facto bell. Will I be able to find my own snooze button? 

At one of the meetings I attended over the past week, I had the opportunity to introduce myself to a few of my fellow educators. We were asked by the moderator to share our school site and years of experience in the classroom, and when it was my turn, I told my colleagues that I would be starting my thirtieth year. Lots of appreciation for that number, and even more when I mentioned that all of this educating had taken place at one site. "This makes me something of a unicorn in this district," I confided. 

Then one of them asked me, "How much longer will you keep going?"

When I answered, "One more year," the reaction I got was resigned acceptance.

"What will you do then?" inquired the five year veteran across from me.

Then there was that flinch. The one that I am now confronting more and more. What will I do? Moving up into the mountain vacation home is out of the question since I don't own a mountain vacation home. Spending more time with the grandkids is currently a hypothetical since the grandkids exist in the same plane as that mountain vacation home. 

The easiest thing to do would be to keep rolling. Stay at my school until they cart me out on a stretcher. This does not seem that appealing, especially against the backdrop of this past year when my friend and fifth grade teacher was unable to answer the bell coming back from Christmas. Not his choice, I assure you. 

I want to have a choice. I want some life left to live. 

Now I just have to figure out what that might be.