What Happens Next?

There was a gathering of former teachers from my school last week. This crew was the one for which I initiated the sentiment, "There are no ex-Horace Mann teachers, only recovering Horace Mann teachers." This has been my refrain for nearly a decade now as I have worked my way up the totem pole to nearly the top. I have been assured by our cafeteria supervisor that she will be retiring in December, so that will leave me. The lone survivor.
Or something like that. Some would argue that hanging around at one school site doesn't make me a survivor as much as stubborn. Or tenacious. Or boring. Like when I go in to donate blood and I can fly through all those questions about tattoos and world travel without blinking because I am a pretty boring guy. But an excellent candidate for blood donation.
Which is pretty much what makes me such a star at my school. My relative skills and enthusiasm are not usually in question, but I do know that simply showing up every day for more than twenty years makes me some sort of institution. Which is natural, since so many have suggested for years that I be institutionalized.
But now I have begun to bump up against the reality of what life might be like if I eventually had to pack things in and call it a career. Retire. Which is kind of a funny word, since it suggests that I wasn't already tired enough, so I ought to go back for some more. Being locked out of school and hanging out at home has been, much to my wife's chagrin, a coming attraction of sorts. What will life be like when all this hunkering down is just a matter of fact and not part of some government conspiracy?
I recognize ahead of time the struggle that I will experience once I have said goodbye to being an elementary school teacher. There are only so many times the sink trap can be cleaned and the lawn can be mowed. And I expect that once I ride off into the sunset I'll be back. So many of the teachers I know who have "retired" have gone on to spend their golden years volunteering or substituting or loitering in the office of schools because they just can't imagine a life without it.
I can imagine it, but I still pine for those moments when things came together just so and I was responsible for some kids learning. I've been able to do some of that from my desk here in my home office, but I have started to wonder how much longer I will be this enthusiastic. Or able.
I have maintained for some time that I expect someone will have to carry me out of the school and toss my belongings after me. "And don't come back!"
With love. And appreciation. But someday this has all got to end.
Doesn't it?