14 More Mondays

So I’m still at the beginning of my last semester, but already have some perceptions of retirement.

The first is relief (OK, and maybe some pride) in getting the job done. Like a climber who has the peak in view and realizes that his energy level is high and the weather is holding, it looks like I’m going to make it.

The second is anticipation. Folks keep asking what I’ll do. Not to worry, I have a lengthy list. There are things school teachers never get to do: like see the fall foliage in New England or surprise one’s spouse with a spontaneous midweek visit to Santa Fe.

And, ironically, writing teachers don’t get to write, not the long stuff. At least this writing teacher doesn’t. I like reading student essays, but the activity fills up that part of my brain needed for my own creativity.

And I am anticipating unstructured leisure, the kind children enjoy where they can plan their days spontaneously as they unfold. I once wrote a blog and column about it if you’re interested.

Anyway, I expect to spend my first summer purposefully without plans. And I know it will be fun but won’t last past August. I’m too much of a doer.

Finally, not all my preretirement feelings are positive. I’m also experiencing a creeping sadness, like the emotion one feels when his children grow out of childhood. I know I need to go. It’s time. But I’ll miss the students.

Facebook is a blessing, and I’ll keep up with you people I’ve already taught. But I’m haunted by the thought of those I’ll never meet.