Well, it’s August 1st and at this point I used to see the hourglass sand of summer quickly slipping away.
the sands of summer slipping away
August would be the month that all the school supplies lining the aisles of stores and all those incessant reminders to get ready to go back to school would curb my enthusiasm to embrace the rest of summer vacation. A tiny spark of anticipation would form and increasingly grow larger as each day of August ticked by until the inevitable email would land into my inbox reminding me of all of my obligation to attend all the in-service meetings at school.
Ah–but that was then and this is now.
Three years into retirement and I welcome August and recognize summer is not over. So I shall celebrate with an original poem.
July by Pam Webb
July arrives in dragonfly fashion on star-spangled wings dancing in after June’s somewhat fickle days flitting here and wandering there. The days are full of hammock reads, lazy BBQs, and required air-conditioned nights. July is the true summer month. And when its fulsome days have dwindled down to rest
Suddenly–
July forsakes glad company and speedily zooms
into
August.
How do you view August? Is it your true summer month or the nudge that summer is ending?
As retired empty nesters the hubs and I are on the low key retirement plan. No RV or exotic journeys are on the agenda. Doing jigsaw puzzles, reading books, talking walks, backyard birding, and watching a good mystery series are adventurous enough for us. Going Costco and lunch is a big outing for us.
I will confess we will get really crazy now and then and binge three episodes of Dr. Blake pushing our bedtime past 10:30 pm.
Now this might either sound like an extremely boring way to spend what is considered our twilight years or it might be an ideal of retirement life. To each their own, eh?
Three years into retirement and we are in a groove and spontaneity is perhaps not so much on our minds anymore. Staying at home is quite pleasant actually. Why spend money and have to deal with other people? I know—this mindset does limit date ideas when we do decide to go out.
So on the third rainy day when cabin fever was setting in my no-let’s-stay home husband got a glimmer in his eye and suggested going for a drive.
Yes, it was still raining out. But getting out was needed, plus maybe spontaneity has its place. I assented and off we drove.
Truthfully, driving around town in the rain is not that fun although parking the car overlooking the marina proved rather pleasant.
As we sat there gazing at the rain languidly connecting with the bay I laughed as the windows began steaming up, wondering if cars passing by were wondering what we were up to. It’s nice to know that after 40 years of marriage we still can generate heat in a parked car. Admittedly it was all talk and no action.
It is nice that we still have the capacity of great conversation after four plus decades of marriage. The topic at hand was why were there year round seagulls residing at an inland lake. In our thirty or so years living in a town that boasts having an impressively large freshwater lake that has always been on my mind.
So we asked Siri, which I have named Jarvis, after selecting a British voice for my iPhone AI.
Well, they aren’t seagulls. In fact there is no such thing as a seagull. There are only gulls. And some live by the sea.
Sea period. Gull period.
My goodness that stumped us. How do I possibly unlearn a lifetime of calling a bird by the wrong name?
The point of this post is that if we hadn’t veered from our comfortable lifestyle for a bit of spontaneous getaway time we would not have learned a most enlightening fact.
So—take a moment to do something a bit different than usual (a hearty recommendation is to stay safe and sane in your decision) because you just might have an opportunity to learn something worth knowing.
Yes, and the bonus of our outing is realizing that I am my husband’s best gull friend.
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.
Is it June yet?
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.
One absolutely appreciated bonus of retirement is enjoying the mellow fall sunshine. I call September weather my Goldilock Days: not too hot, not too cold—just right.
Previous to retirement (this is my second September!) I would look out of my classroom window and long to be outside. That was one commonality I shared with my students. Although I would try to tie up loose ends and get home to enjoy the remaining afternoon, I usually arrived home only to enjoy a sliver of sun before it slipped behind the mountain. My Verilux light is a poor substitute for that warm, comforting kiss of sunlight.
And so, in these fall days, these post-summer days, these halcyon days of retirement I am found sunning like a marmot on my morning patio, napping on my hammock early afternoon, and lounging on my other hammock in the late afternoon.
Lest you think all I do is lounge around, I am landscaping, cleaning, writing, reading, and stacking wood throughout the day.
Unfortunately my Goldilocks time is ending. I used to go for my morning walk by 7 am. Lately it’s 49 degrees at that time and the sun is barely up. By 9 am it’s 60 degrees which is acceptable. Just as the perfect temps of mid-seventies arrive the cold nights appear. By 6 pm there is a chill that sends me inside.
Nothing says summer is ending more than the delivery of our winter wood supply. I feel the calendar days tick down when those wood chunks fill the bins.
Two cords strong
One aspect of full wood bins is knowing I will be cozy warm by the fire reading books and sipping cocoa. For now I’m still reveling in late summer before I fall into winter.
Monday marked the closure of my teaching career. A rounded off twenty years of teaching: 19 in the classroom with 1 year as the credit recovery coordinator.
Our school holds a retirement breakfast and each principal or supervisor says a few words about their retiring staff member before handing over a handsome plaque. My principal did say a few nice words then stumped me with an obscure Shakespeare quote. With a reputation as the resident Bardinator he must have thought I would be able to quote what play it hailed from. If I had known there was going to be a pop quiz I would have studied the night before.
WHEREOF WHAT’S PAST IS PROLOGUE; WHAT TO COME, IN YOURS AND MY DISCHARGE. —The Tempest, 2.1 (missed this one, so distracted by Ariel and Caliban)
Our vice-principal, who handles most of the disciplinary issues, decided a mild roasting was in order. He declared me the most prolific behavior referral writer among the staff, keeping him busy (isn’t this called job security?) and handed me “Webb’s Greatest Hits”—a thirteen page document of all my discipline referrals over my classroom tenure. (Isn’t this just doing my job with dedicated zeal for behavior modification?)
Post breakfast meant turning in my phone, keys, and final farewells. Being homeless, since another teacher was moving into room with gusto, I left. Basically my teaching career ended before 10 am. That’s a ponderful thought: you can take away a teacher’s room but there is always room for teachers.
I spent the rest of the day reading, napping, finding a place to put away my accumulation of classroom stuff acquired over 20 years. That’s a very different post.
Over the past week people kept asking how it felt to be retiring. I had a different reply depending on the day. After all, it wasn’t over until my grades and keys were turned in. On this last day, the reality of leaving the career I inadvertently was herded into washed over me when a former student, now our study hall supervisor found me after the breakfast and said, “I’m sad you’re leaving. I’m happy for your retirement, but sad you’re leaving.” Yes, that’s exactly how I feel as well.
As how to spend the first day of retirement? It’s my birthday—so I’ll do whatever I want. It’s Flag Day to boot!
I will admit it: I am officially in countdown mode.
Once Memorial Day weekend arrives it’s just a matter of reviewing for finals and finalizing grades.
This is also the time of year that I begin to reflect upon the overall. The usual introspective “Was I effective as a teacher?” thing that often ends up with the “Maybe I should look into retirement” nudges.
Yes, there were plenty of successes: students embracing the new research paper format; scores for state testing going beyond stated requirements (at least in one class); finding lost papers.
Yet, I dwell upon those perceived failures: that one class, that one student, that one unit that didn’t quite, that didn’t quite–that, well, wasn’t quite a success.
Maybe retirement would be a good idea.
Thoughts like that prompt me towards a library run and lunch out. And that’s when I am handed a providential reprieve.
In a small town like ours it is inevitable I run into students, both present and former. They bag my groceries, fill up my water glass, complete my Penney’s purchase, and serve my food. This one I couldn’t remember her name, or if I actually had her as a student. So I feign the friendly, “Hey, how’s it going?”
Then the question pops up: “Do you still teach English?”
I guess I do look like I’m retired. We talk as she wraps up my purchase. She was in my class when I taught freshmen (that was a ways back). I wonder silently if she gained anything from the class. Five years ago…That’s going back a ways. Then she says, “I remember we read To Kill a Mockingbird.” I wait for her reflection, her possible judgement. “I named my cat Atticus.”
A cat named Atticus.
Yup, I can put off retirement for at least one more year.
Pam Webb 