32 Years

I have been on medical leave pretty much since December and it will run through the end of the school year, then I am retired. 32 plus years of teaching and it is over.

I went to school a few days ago to get my stuff. I don’t know what my schedule will look like for the next few weeks so it was something I needed to do. I went after school so I wouldn’t have to see kids or many people. I got there at about 3:00, and someone was parked in my parking space.

I knew my home, room 205, was going to look different, I hadn’t been teaching there for almost 6 months. This is a space I had worked and researched to create, a place that belonged to my students and me, a place that let us learn, innovate, support, and push our boundaries. 205 was a special place that I had spent eight years creating for and with my kids.

I opened the door and was immediately unsure if I was in the right place, the smell that hit my nose was not the smell of sweaty fifth graders in spring, that smell that only a 5th grade teacher could associate with learning and love. Instead the strong smell of some sort of plug in air freshener hit me hard.

My teammate who I had shared the room with this year, who’s room this had become, was at her computer in a virtual meeting. I quietly walked in, acknowledged her and headed to our shared standing desk with my bags. I didn’t look around, just headed straight for the desk. I started with my side of a small bookcase. Pulling things off and starting three haphazard piles: keep it, recycle it, leave it here. When I was done sorting the shelf and my desk. I have two bags of stuff, A huge pile of recycling and a lot of teaching stuff that I was leaving behind.

Then I walk over to the cupboard that has all my science goodness - bags and bins full of the materials I have used to make science hands-on. I see the poppers that I used to teach potential and kinetic energy and I immediately think of the silliness that happens with that experiment. I see a cup full of melted and mangled pennies and realize this year no one had to worry about me setting something on fire with my blow torch. Every bin held a memory. I grabbed a bag, left everything else as it was, and shut the cupboard.

I didn’t open any other cupboards, or look on any other shelf. I grabbed the recycling and took it down to the bin. When I returned my teammate was gone and the room was empty. I grabbed my two bags of stuff and headed for the door. I stood at the threshold and looked back into room 205.

The big windows that look out over the playground where I used to watch my kids play at recess. The stains and holes in the carpet that may have come from crazy experiments and students using a drill a bit too zealously. The furniture and floor to ceiling whiteboard wall that I thought so carefully about when designing a room for active teaching and learning. So much learning, growing, and laughing happened for both my kids and me in this room, all so vivid in my mind. I closed the door and walked away.

32 years, 2 bags, and a million memories.