My Curtain Call

As I awake today, reality is starting to set in. The adrenaline rush of the decision to resign with no job has subsided as I think about the last two days of goodbyes.

Packing should have been taking place. It wasn’t. Instead, I was assuring parents that their children would be fine without me. “But you are the heart and the soul of the middle school,” they kept saying. In reality, the four of us that made up the team were the magic of it all. A team that I can honestly say is the best team I have ever worked with in all my years of teaching: Scarlet, Mickey, and Jed. We were there for each other, and they continued to be there for me throughout my struggle contemplating what to do. They supported me in my ultimate decision to leave. When I handed in my letter of resignation, they were with me (Scarlet in spirit, the boys in the flesh) so I wouldn’t have to be alone. As the last of my stuff was being packed, Mickey turned to me and said, “You know this means you aren’t going to be working with us anymore, don’t you? It’s not too late to go rip the letter out of his hands and take it all back.” I wonder how the boss would have reacted to that…

During the drama with Tony being fired, I never heard anything from any of the parents. Very unusual at our school. If he had been fired during the school year, my phone would have been ringing off the hook. Over and over I questioned why I had not heard from any of them. Not even a quick note on facebook. Had ‘he’ gotten to them and manipulated the way they felt about me? Throughout the silence, I questioned my relationship with people I thought were friends. That questioning ended when I ran into one of the parents. She and another parent invited me out to dinner that evening. My last night in Pueblo, I opened my house to past students and parents. A few came to see us off. It was that that I was reminded that it is not only the students who like to shut off their ‘school brain’ during the summer months.

Packing resumed in between visitors and never-ending phone calls, a welcome interruption. A little after 10pm the knock that I had been waiting for came. Greg. My very best friend my first year in Pueblo. Greeting him with a big hug, I thought back to the beginning of our friendship. The many late nights tiling our kitchen floor, talking education philosophy at school, and getting to know one another through get-togethers. This night was no different. We didn’t tile any floors, but we did talk well past midnight while we enjoyed each other’s company.

This morning my eyes are open much too early. The girls are still sound asleep in Sana’s room after their sleepover of the night before. Reality has come crashing down on me as I realize I am leaving not only Pueblo, the town I have called home for the last three years, but also my oldest daughter. As she sleeps, the trail of my tears burns my cheeks. I miss her before I even say goodbye.