As I leave my workplace for the last time, I pause at the doorway, turn around, and take in the silence of a desolate classroom. The shuffling of feet, books, and backpacks; the horseplay, shouts, and giggles of students; the happiness, the anger, the boredom, the surprise, the fear, the strength, the bravery, the ever-constant hormonal presence, and the enlightenment of young adults; no more. My stage, my podium, my lectern, my pulpit, my soapbox--just a memory now as I turn the page to begin a new chapter, nay, a new volume in the life that is mine.
This empty classroom cannot speak of the seventh graders, over 700 of them, that have been the major players in my life these past few years. I stand in the silence, flooded by the memories of lessons and speeches and laps around the room and tests and debates and throwing paper in the air and clapping and dancing and playing the music too loud and testing and writing and reading and yelling and laughing and completing paper work and playing games and testing and acting and falling to the floor as a failure and screaming in exultation when someone understands!
It is so quiet now.
I look at the desks stacked and can see the service of the amazing people who come in after hours to keep our school shining and safe. No matter how destroyed my class was at the end of the day, by the next morning it stood orderly and clean, marks on the desks erased, scuffs on the floor now invisible. I bow to those who give such effort so that our children can spend their days in a sparkling environment.
My bookshelves stand empty, and I think of our media center and its specialist, of her helpfulness and willingness to procure whatever was necessary, always with a smile.
The computer is off and I have saved all of my documents to a tiny thumb drive…years of creation thrown into my backpack for another day. And so I think of the "IT Guy." Never did I wait more than a few class periods for a solution to be found to any technical difficulty in my classroom. Now I must rely on myself for these issues…I guess I'll just turn it off and then turn it back on--always the reboot.
I think of the office support, whether it be those who are the face of the school, interacting with the parents, protecting me from unwanted criticisms, lending help whenever it is needed; those who take care of all my needs, whether it be finding supplies, contacting the "Taj Mahal" on my behalf, working with student schedules, mediating student conflict, or nursing the ill back to health--my ability to teach would have been hampered without their untiring efforts to make our school run so smoothly that at times I may have forgotten all that it entailed.
My stomach growls and I realize that I'm on my own now…no one is preparing lunch for me today. I'll miss the smiles and kindness of the cafeteria staff; I never heard a negative word from any of them, only helpful messages. I think of the special meals that they prepared for the teachers and all the calories I ingested. My body displays the results of their diligence.
Just outside my room stand other classrooms with my comrades, a force of educators to admire and applaud. I will miss the fellowship of these master teachers. Despite the constant barrage and assault by our government on their performance, they prove day after day that all they want to do is teach and to do it the way they know best. They listen to each other--shared joy, frustration, anger, and love--and they know to keep it close and not break confidence, because, seriously, teaching middle school children can make one a little crazy sometimes.
I think of my bruised ego when I entered this place for the first time; my spirit had been beaten down, my self esteem nowhere to be found. I cry real tears as I recall the encouragement and support of a principal who took the time to build me back up, to give me the strength to be myself once again.
This classroom, this little piece of real estate in South Florida is/was my growing place, and I know, standing here, that it was the constant support of the administration that gave me the room to grow. Kindness. Encouragement. Praise. They demonstrated and shared their confidence in me that I could do my job well.
I hope I did not let them down.
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