I have been asked a lot lately if I miss teaching. Considering the basket case that I was at the end of the school year, I suppose it is a valid question. Truth is, I don’t know how I feel about it. I usually don’t work in the summer, so “normal” is hard to figure out.
But then, I finally got around to dropping off my laptop last week. I had procrastinated as long as I could, because I was not looking forward to giving up that final connection. Subconsciously, I think that maybe I wished the department would call me in desperation and convince me to come back for just one more class.
But the call didn’t come, and as I handed over my beat up laptop and walked to my car, I started to cry…again…
“Pull yourself together”, I told myself, “you are being ridiculous. You have changed jobs plenty of times. This is the right decision…less stress…more time…” Decent self talk, but pitiful results, as I sobbed all the way home.
Am I honestly that much of a sentimental, sensitive mess?
Okay, okay, that’s probably part of my problem.
The rest came to me later. Yes, I have had plenty of jobs before, but I have never had such a strong emotional connection to a job before. I wasn’t doing it for the money (wrong profession), and I wasn’t doing it to get a break (freshmen and toddlers aren’t so different). I wasn’t even doing it to get an “atta girl” (not for adjuncts).
But I was there for the kids…those “almost-adults” with their big ideas and high expectations. I would get a chill up my spine every time I walked into a classroom on the first day of class, anticipating the semester ahead. There would be the smell of fresh cut grass coming in through the windows, everyone would have crisp new decals on their laptops and would be talking about where to buy their textbooks.
I enjoyed seeing students from previous semesters, but it was more fun to have a classroom of freshmen. There would be the early arrivers, who either didn’t want to have to choose who they sat next to or wanted to get the best back row seat possible. There would be the group of girls, straight from lunch, carrying soft serve ice cream cones and laughing about…everything. There would be the jokesters, the brown nosers, the overachievers, and the students who wanted to disappear.
To see their confidence grow…to see their perspective broaden…to see them gain the “freshman 15” (okay, maybe I couldn’t see that)…all of it…amazing enough memories to crowd out the late nights, endless grading, and dealing with the few students who just didn’t try…
So, yes, I am going to miss teaching. Not enough to go back right now, because I have other paths to follow. But I can’t guarantee that if I hear the crack of a new textbook opening or get a whiff of cafeteria food or see a former student in Meijer, I just might get a tad nostalgic.
– Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
