Retirement

 After forty plus years at the same institution, City College, I have retired--well, almost retired. The poetry festival I run was postponed until the fall, so there is that work to be done, but yesterday I handed in my grades for the two classes I taught, so the teaching part of my career is over. In many ways, I consistently loved what I did. Every semester felt brand new in terms of new books, new subject matter, but mostly new students. There is an intimacy in a classroom. Often a teacher becomes not just someone who imparts knowledge, but a confidant (with limits), a therapist (with limits) and an open ear--receptive to their joys and also their anguish. I took pride in their accomplishments and felt sorrow with their grief; in particular, when they fell off the guardrails, and there was nothing I could do about it. Teaching, like parenting, teaches you the limits of control; you can guide, but you can not change.

I am ready to leave. As much as I loved the classroom, I grew tired of the grading, the extra tasks I had to perform, the bureaucracy. There is other unexplored terrain in my life I am ready to embark on. Still, this has become bittersweet for me. I am eager to start writing on a fulltime basis, to spend more time on my political goals, time with my husband, children, grandchildren, including the new one who awaits me in August. I am eager to throw myself into the books and culture I love, so all of this is sweet. Still, I will miss my students, the refrain, "Can I talk to you?" which always meant a new story, sometimes joyful, sometimes sad. 

I had to explain this feeling to a friend recently and I said it is like ending a marriage, where you know it is time to leave, yet you also know the person you were married to was wonderful in so many ways, but you had different aspirations and were truly so different, so it had to end. I fortunately never had this experience, but I know people who had, and one thing I have always been good at is stepping into the shoes of another in order to understand someone else's perspective.

It is time for me to divorce myself from my wonderful career and I am ready to take the leap, but I know--as I move into this new chapter yet to be written--I will miss my students, their stories, their smiles, so it is with joy and some sorrow I plunge into this unknown journey.