I’ve been out here in the retiree pasture for a few years now (it’s a lovely place upstate, with many frolicking dogs) and as some teachers are staring down the last few weeks of their teaching careers, let me offer them some advice.
Perfect advice! Bravo! My retirement was a bit more abrupt and noisy. It wasn't the traditional, gentle slide out to pasture, let's just say. Regardless, being retired has liberated me to be able to say the things that existing teachers, especially those here in the Free State, are afraid to say. If you are retired, please use your freedom to advocate for teachers and public schools and students the way you wish someone had advocated for you. Show up at the board meetings and "workshops" held during school hours and speek out for teachers. Write letters to the local rag that working teachers dare not submit. Be the voice that teachers can't be. On whatever platform you have, share the truth about what is really like standing in front of a classroom. People have no idea.
I'd add just one word of caution - you may still have teacher dreams, i.e. nightmares. The ones where that one kid is ruining a entire class, or where there's a roomful of kiddos waiting for you and you've forgotten about them, or you're assigned to teach a subject you know nothing about in a room that does not exist.
But you wake yourself up, and none of it has or will happen: joy!
Good heavens, yes! I don't know how I missed that one. All of those. Back in my old school subbing, but everything has been moved around and I can't find the room. Out of control class. All that. Can't imagine why I had blocked all of that out of my mind while I was writing this.
I think I would still be teaching if THEY hadn't shut down my program for at-risk youth. Despite all the drama with these kids, they just needed a person who accepted them for who they were, where they were in life, and to help them find value in themselves. I have so many stories to tell and until now, I didn't realize how many hats I wore, days I worked, weekends I worked, and second jobs I held. Like in Breaking Bad, when the "pureness of teaching" happened, it was wonderful. I taught students to belief in themselves and presented many scenarios where their personal skills could pave the way for success not test scores. Ever since I was little, I liked to follow the "beat of my own drum" so when THEY told me numerous times why the way I worked would not work, I proved them them wrong time and time again. As for making noise, I never got the chance. After my program closed, I thought I had some tenure, but that wasn't the case, they shipped me off to another location to teach 12 year olds (I had taught 18-20 year olds for numerous years) and that was a nightmare. Ironically, it was back at a middle school where I had started, but as noted, I inherited a nightmare of a class. Despite my efforts to try different things, it didn't work. My art stuff didn't work and they screamed all the time. Covid hit. Remote learning and it took a toll on me. I really think I had peaked on the salary schedule (@30 years of teaching) and they wanted to "move me on." I had taught Adult Ed as well and figured if I didn't do my day gig, I had Adult Ed. I resigned and then the district not only accepted my resignation, they took my Adult Ed job away as well. They told me I could reapply for my job if they didn't find a suitable replacement. So my "noise" was rather a "sour taste" after all trying so hard to create success for the most marginalizes students. And you are right: all those contacts (best pals) -- ghosted as if I never existed. I mean I tried to reach out, but most never reply. Oh, well. Chapter over. But when those Sunday nights rolled around, I thought I had missed something for Monday only to realize, "Dude, you don't do that anymore." The greatest gift: the relationships I made with my students as "humans." I live in the same town as my students and I have seen them since they were little and now adults with families of their own. The kids who THEY said would amount to a lot of nothing, have great jobs, own businesses, and even have written poetry books and held art shows. They are part of the community. My wife worked in our local bank and she said, "Did you know...they came in today. They said you were the only one who actually took time to help them and listen." That's cool. The sour taste turns to "sweetness"knowing that I changed lives. As for my time now, I don't have to cram everything into a weekend or late nights. I can crawl out of my cave when needed, work on my projects at my pace, and take time to smell my roses or feed the cats, squirrels, and birds. My mind seems fresh with ideas that turn into poetry. I did my thing.
I think I was out for 2 years or so before I stopped having that moment most nights right after dinner of thinking "What do I have going on tomorrow that I need to be ready for?" and then reminding myself - NOTHING! I think the thing I like most about my retirement is the lack of obligation. That doesn't mean I don't continue to contribute to my community, but I can do it on my own schedule and in my own way. I also like that, for the first time in my adult life, my life does not revolve around everyone else. So yeah, retirement is pretty great.
Since retiring on 12/31/2024 at 25 years of service, I have been on an extended do nothing phase I get up when I want, nap when I want, drink hot coffee or tea when I want. It’s been liberating. I retired, not because of the students, but because of the continuing push for teachers to do more with less. I was an elementary reading specialist-a dinosaur from a bygone era. I didn’t fit into the mold of just follow the script, toe the line, give every hour and penny to the job. I was vocal and oppositional when it mattered to my students and I was tired. I miss a handful of my colleagues and the camaraderie I had from being in the trenches with them. I don’t miss those trenches though. I have enjoyed the first 18 months of being a hermit and discovering who I want to be for the remainder of the years afforded to me. I plan to travel and read books and take care of my needs (two new knees in the past three months). I appreciate the freedom of retirement to care for my kids and grandkids as they navigate life. I also enjoy exploring daily life on my own terms.
Perfect advice! Bravo! My retirement was a bit more abrupt and noisy. It wasn't the traditional, gentle slide out to pasture, let's just say. Regardless, being retired has liberated me to be able to say the things that existing teachers, especially those here in the Free State, are afraid to say. If you are retired, please use your freedom to advocate for teachers and public schools and students the way you wish someone had advocated for you. Show up at the board meetings and "workshops" held during school hours and speek out for teachers. Write letters to the local rag that working teachers dare not submit. Be the voice that teachers can't be. On whatever platform you have, share the truth about what is really like standing in front of a classroom. People have no idea.
I'd add just one word of caution - you may still have teacher dreams, i.e. nightmares. The ones where that one kid is ruining a entire class, or where there's a roomful of kiddos waiting for you and you've forgotten about them, or you're assigned to teach a subject you know nothing about in a room that does not exist.
But you wake yourself up, and none of it has or will happen: joy!
Good heavens, yes! I don't know how I missed that one. All of those. Back in my old school subbing, but everything has been moved around and I can't find the room. Out of control class. All that. Can't imagine why I had blocked all of that out of my mind while I was writing this.
I'm 16 years out, and had one of those a week ago. Teacher PTSD.
Great column, Peter!
Thank you. As someone who went from teaching to homemaking, I found this helpful and validating.
I think I would still be teaching if THEY hadn't shut down my program for at-risk youth. Despite all the drama with these kids, they just needed a person who accepted them for who they were, where they were in life, and to help them find value in themselves. I have so many stories to tell and until now, I didn't realize how many hats I wore, days I worked, weekends I worked, and second jobs I held. Like in Breaking Bad, when the "pureness of teaching" happened, it was wonderful. I taught students to belief in themselves and presented many scenarios where their personal skills could pave the way for success not test scores. Ever since I was little, I liked to follow the "beat of my own drum" so when THEY told me numerous times why the way I worked would not work, I proved them them wrong time and time again. As for making noise, I never got the chance. After my program closed, I thought I had some tenure, but that wasn't the case, they shipped me off to another location to teach 12 year olds (I had taught 18-20 year olds for numerous years) and that was a nightmare. Ironically, it was back at a middle school where I had started, but as noted, I inherited a nightmare of a class. Despite my efforts to try different things, it didn't work. My art stuff didn't work and they screamed all the time. Covid hit. Remote learning and it took a toll on me. I really think I had peaked on the salary schedule (@30 years of teaching) and they wanted to "move me on." I had taught Adult Ed as well and figured if I didn't do my day gig, I had Adult Ed. I resigned and then the district not only accepted my resignation, they took my Adult Ed job away as well. They told me I could reapply for my job if they didn't find a suitable replacement. So my "noise" was rather a "sour taste" after all trying so hard to create success for the most marginalizes students. And you are right: all those contacts (best pals) -- ghosted as if I never existed. I mean I tried to reach out, but most never reply. Oh, well. Chapter over. But when those Sunday nights rolled around, I thought I had missed something for Monday only to realize, "Dude, you don't do that anymore." The greatest gift: the relationships I made with my students as "humans." I live in the same town as my students and I have seen them since they were little and now adults with families of their own. The kids who THEY said would amount to a lot of nothing, have great jobs, own businesses, and even have written poetry books and held art shows. They are part of the community. My wife worked in our local bank and she said, "Did you know...they came in today. They said you were the only one who actually took time to help them and listen." That's cool. The sour taste turns to "sweetness"knowing that I changed lives. As for my time now, I don't have to cram everything into a weekend or late nights. I can crawl out of my cave when needed, work on my projects at my pace, and take time to smell my roses or feed the cats, squirrels, and birds. My mind seems fresh with ideas that turn into poetry. I did my thing.
I think I was out for 2 years or so before I stopped having that moment most nights right after dinner of thinking "What do I have going on tomorrow that I need to be ready for?" and then reminding myself - NOTHING! I think the thing I like most about my retirement is the lack of obligation. That doesn't mean I don't continue to contribute to my community, but I can do it on my own schedule and in my own way. I also like that, for the first time in my adult life, my life does not revolve around everyone else. So yeah, retirement is pretty great.
Since retiring on 12/31/2024 at 25 years of service, I have been on an extended do nothing phase I get up when I want, nap when I want, drink hot coffee or tea when I want. It’s been liberating. I retired, not because of the students, but because of the continuing push for teachers to do more with less. I was an elementary reading specialist-a dinosaur from a bygone era. I didn’t fit into the mold of just follow the script, toe the line, give every hour and penny to the job. I was vocal and oppositional when it mattered to my students and I was tired. I miss a handful of my colleagues and the camaraderie I had from being in the trenches with them. I don’t miss those trenches though. I have enjoyed the first 18 months of being a hermit and discovering who I want to be for the remainder of the years afforded to me. I plan to travel and read books and take care of my needs (two new knees in the past three months). I appreciate the freedom of retirement to care for my kids and grandkids as they navigate life. I also enjoy exploring daily life on my own terms.