Pam Webb

That Tuesday Feeling

The day after Labor Day is traditionally when school starts. It signifies for most the end of summer and the beginning of nine long months of spending daylight hours in the classroom occasionally, and mostly wistfully, glancing out the window, anticipating being released from the four walls of education.

I imagine students feel the same way.

Before I retired from teaching I did look forward to the first day of school—kind of. Truth be told the first day of teaching, at least at the high school level, can be awkward for both students and teachers. Getting names right, going over expectations, trying to establish a rapport, returning to a scheduled routine of bells dictating the day week after week.

Wait—

Sounds a bit despondent, doesn’t it? Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed being a teacher. I just enjoy being a retired teacher so much more. I’m in good company.

Recently I gathered with around 25 other retired teachers from our local high school for our annual get together. It’s always scheduled on the day teachers have to report to school for in-service meetings. I think that’s it meant to be a wink and a nod that we don’t have to be there anymore. We all agreed being retired is better than being tired again and again, something that occurred when teaching.

This will be the third year I will not be returning to school. People have been asking me if I miss teaching and are often surprised when I quickly say, “Nope.” Teaching is hard work. And teaching became harder because of Covid. In fact, talking to friends who still teach, Covid is still impacting teaching. It’s probably not going to get any easier.

So while I don’t miss teaching, I do miss being a teacher. Then again while I might not be currently teaching I will always be a teacher. You know the saying: You can take the teacher out of the classroom but she will kindly decline offers to return once retired.

Oh, there’s a different saying?

Happy Tuesday-after-Labor Day to students and staff. Hope your year is pleasant and enriching.

Excuse me while I plunk myself in my hammock and read another book in my retirement.