A New Day

Today begins a brand new adventure. I still haven't exactly wrapped my thoughts around it--I think I'm numb actually.

When Roy and I first got married, I had three years to go before I graduated from college. We moved to Campion Academy in Colorado and I finished my schooling in Greeley at a public university which was about 20 miles away. However, the academy hired me to be on a supervision team, thus beginning my academy work at the ripe old age of 20. And it has continued through the years--always part-time, always at an academy (well, mainly...we did the public school scene for three years in California). But as of today, my academy work is officially at an end. I find it baffling.

On Friday, Roy and I went to my office and started the cleaning-out process. I have 24 years of accumulation in there: a card Darian made for me in kindergarten; letters from past students; hundreds of files of activities; vocabulary workbooks; artwork students have drawn; family pictures through the years; a collection of anthologies and teaching materials and books; pictures of friends come and gone...

It was a bittersweet process--and there's still so much to accomplish.

I have always felt I was born to teach. It's in my blood. I come from a family of teachers: my parents, my sisters, my aunt, my uncle. It's all I knew growing up and it's all I've known in my married life--the world of education. What's it like to work 12 months out of the year?

But it's more than that. I've loved the relationships that have been forged through the classroom.  I thrive on watching these kids come to academy as freshmen and grow before my eyes into young adults ready to take on the world. Youth energize me. Teaching has given me purpose.

And so, as I cleaned out my office, all of those thoughts swirled around in my head. I couldn't stop the tears with the realization that this world is no longer mine. But honestly, that's okay. It's impossible to walk away from a job I have loved for 27 years with no hesitation.

But here is my new reality. I will never again (unless, of course,  I choose to come back) have to grade another paper. I will no longer bring stacks of notebooks home that I am obligated to forge through as my family lazes around doing menial things. I no longer have to scour the internet, searching for a way to make The Scarlet Ibis meaningful; no more scrounging for tactics that make the boys realize the beauty of poetry; no more required Sundays or faculty meetings during the hours when I would normally be heading for bed.

It is somebody else's turn.

And honestly? That feels pretty good. That's exciting and makes me heave a big sigh of relief.

And so, last night I packed my lunch for today and it's waiting for me on a shelf in the refrigerator. I picked out the clothes I am going to wear. I polished my nails and took it off and polished them again and took it off and polished them  again...and finally took it off. I polish nails like a kindergartner. Good grief.

Maybe I'll get a manicure this week.

This morning at 8:00 I will get in my car and head to a building downtown where I will learn all about what it means to be a paralegal for Buncombe County. And honestly? I'm excited. I can't wait to have my own desk and a never-ending pile of projects to wade through. I am excited to learn a new skill that pays well and creates a future for my family financially. I am excited to have a career.

It's a new journey, a new day, and I can't wait to begin.