Day 10: My Generation

Over the years, I’ve had a recurring dream about returning to school at the end of summer. I know that it’s my school, but nothing about the building is right. The hallways look different, the rooms aren’t in the same place, the whole floor plan is mixed up in unrecognizable ways. One year I found myself making an impossible uphill climb as I tried to walk from the parking lot to the front entrance — not a lot of mystery there, I guess. The way I could always tell it was my school was because of the people.

In my much younger days, there was barely any turnover in our school staff. Someone might retire, someone might move on, but most of the staff stayed in place. When I finally worked my way to the middle of the seniority pack, our staff became even more entrenched. It was always the same people, usually in the same grades. It was predictable and reliable, and in most instances it was comfortable.

Now when it comes to building seniority, I’m #2 on the list, a position I’ll likely hold for the rest of my career since the only person who has taught there longer than I have was a college classmate of mine. Our staff is about to go through a fairly seismic shift when the school year ends in a few weeks, since a good number of people on our staff will be moving on to other positions in other buildings. Three of these people, all of whom will help open a new school next year, are some of the closest friends I still have in the building. Most of my longtime people, the pillars that have held me up and the anchors that have kept me steady, are exiting my life. That may sound dramatic, but it’s true. I’ve been through this process enough times to know that when you work with someone and they move on to a new school, it’s only the rarest of occasions when the two of you are able to maintain a relationship anything like what you’ve had before.

I thought about leaving as well. I applied for jobs at the new schools, and even got as far as interviewing for both. Without getting into specifics, I had a moment during that interview when I knew (or was pretty sure I knew) that leaving my school for a new one was the wrong move for me. I felt confident about that in the immediate moment, and still felt strongly enough days later to withdraw my name from the applicant list. I don’t regret that. I’m sure I’ll still wonder some about the road not taken and what experiences my friends are going to have elsewhere, but I knew for me it was the right thing to do.

That confidence doesn’t make my school any more of a home for me, though. That feeling comes more from the people you work with than it does from the location, or the neighborhood, or the familiar way the rooms smell on the day you move in at the end of the summer. There are still many people at my school that I get along well with, some that I’ve known for a long time and some I’ve only been getting to know better during the past few years. There are just so many fewer people there that I’ll have the same kind of history with.

I think of these three friends and colleagues. Two of them have children who have been in my classes. Two of them I’ve taught with as partners. Two of them I’ve known longer than they’ve had children. I have ancient running jokes with all of them, and I won’t get to share those anymore.

I’m running out of longtime friends.

They’re spreading around the district, and, to be frank, maintaining such friendships isn’t always easy when you’re friends with women who have spouses and children, and you’re a guy who doesn’t have either. For whatever reason, that suburban dynamic never seems to stick.

I turn 51 in a couple of weeks, which means I’ve got somewhere in the ballpark of ten years left in my teaching career. Pulling out of contention for the jobs at new schools left me in a position where I know I’m going to be staying at my school for the duration, and I believe I’ll be expected to take on even more of official and unofficial leadership roles than I already have in my career. Everything my career has been up to this point and what it will be when these changes roll over into reality next year will represent two different eras.

I just need to figure out what this next stage with my new professional relationships and friendships will look like.