Passages

 I remember it well: Pajama Day, October 2026. 

I had spent the morning passing out Jaguar Cards to all the kids who showed up in their jammies, as our school's Spirit Week had decreed. This is often a tough sell to kids past third grade. I was pleased to see that we had a good number of fourth and fifth graders, even some boys, who chose to join the party. 

The Pajama Party. 

As for me, I wore what has become my go-to PJs for such an occasion: Captain America T-shirt and matching flannel bottoms with my cushy red, white and blue robe over the top. I want to believe that I have grown past the worry of appearing as some sort of spectacle on days like this.

Days like this. 

This was no ordinary Pajama Day. 

This was the Pajama Day that I submitted my separation papers to the Oakland Unified School District. If you have been tracking my career path for any period of time, you might be aware that I have a pending date with retirement. Motivated by the math as much as anything else, I have decided to take my thirty years and get while the getting is good. Sending that document to the "Talent Division" downtown is the most concrete step that I have taken on this journey. 

Sure, I have spent some time fretting about the finances, and negotiating with my principal about what the "best time" might be for my departure. Not unlike the way I used to describe the planning that goes behind a wedding, pushing a rock off a cliff at some point and hoping that on the date and time that was agreed the rock will land on the prescribed X without crushing anyone, the die was cast. 

Now there is some tangible evidence to the event. "Separation" sounds so final. I get a little nervous thinking about life without my job. 

Without Spirit Week. 

When Pajama Day becomes every day.