Well, tomorrow, I will make my swan song…it is the last day of school, and my last day as a teacher at a Compton school.
That started to hit me today, and, as you can probably predict, I have mixed emotions.
I’m happy to be getting a new start. This year has been so tough on everyone at this school, moreso than usual. A number of events together have brought us to our knees, and we are at the breaking point. I am happy that that saga is over. The new start also comes at a great time for me professionally, for I feel I dropped the ball in several places this year. In fact, I’m gonna go so far as to say I failed the kids…no, I’m not being hard on myself, believe me. I am immensely thankful for the lessons I’ve learned from my mistakes, and thankful as well for the clean slate I will get tomorrow.
I’m apprehensive because right now, I don’t have a job. I don’t have anything lined up for next year, though I am searching. I made the decision to move on months ago, in January, and I am going to stick with that. I’ll be ok, I think (afterall, I have a pretty big omnipresent, omnipotent Networker on the Holy Spirit phone workin’ it. He’ll put me where He sees fit, teaching job or none, and I can trust in His goodness.), but there is a possibility I won’t be settled somewhere when late August rolls around. Given that, some of you might regard my decision to leave as extremely foolish…trust me, if you knew the details, you’d see it my way (professional prudence prevents me from blabbing. In the halls of the blogosphere, the walls have ears.).
But most of all, I’m nostalgic. It’s surprising, you know, because I didn’t really see this coming. In the past I expected that I’d blaze outta there tomorrow like Eric Liddell, arms flailing, head tilted back and all. But that’s not gonna happen, I realize. The past five months, I have constantly looked forward to moving on, if for no other reason than new starts are exciting. Today, though, I began reflecting on all that I will miss and all I have learned…it’s quite a lot!
After watching graduation today, I found some of my students and wrestlers in the crowd. One of them walked up and shouted, “Hey Mr. Bordner! Nice to see you!”
“Call me Rich,” I replied, as I shook his hand.
Even though, when seen in a certain light, that is quite meaningless, for me that permission carries incredible significance. When they are in high school, I insist they call me either Mr. Bordner, Mr. B, or coach Bordner. It’s an adult/student thing. Giving a student permission to call me by my first name signifies that he is now my peer, and this respect is something they must earn.
This particular young man was a student in my class three years ago, when he was a sophomore. I have been waiting all this time for that moment, hoping that he’d make it to graduation day. It is something I look forward to all year, believe it or not. When I said those words to him, I kinda welled up inside. As a man, I consider it a high honor to look a younger man in the eyes, shake his hand firmly, and say “I am proud of you,” with total conviction.
When I said, “call me Rich,” he paused for a moment. I could see it impacted him deeply. He fully understood what that meant, without me having to explain it to him. Few words were said between us after that, but an incredible amount of communication took place. He simply looked at me, solemnly said, “hey…thanks,” and walked off with his head high. Believe me, this kid was an utter knucklehead fool when he was in my class, but at that moment all his past antics faded from my mind.
Tomorrow I will get to say my goodbyes to all the individuals I’ve been privileged to work with. Along with the good folks, there are, of course, people I can’t stand, people that have done me bad over the past three years, and incompetent staff…but, as I reflected today on who those folks are, it occured to me that saying goodbye to them with a smile and a hug won’t be awkward at all. I won’t have to “make nice” and sugarcoat things. “Thank you for the pleasure of working with you” will not be fudged, and it will have true meaning, because, despite all their crap, these folks have been uniquely knit by the Father Almighty, and the imago dei shines through even the largest cracks in the pot.
Besides, I’m pretty sure that for every annoying neighbor teacher I’ve sat next to at staff meetings, I am that guy to someone else. This realization has caused me to stop wagging my finger so much over the past couple of days.
My classroom is now empty, stripped of all the life and vitality that onced adorned its walls. Everything is pristinely dusted and coifed. All leftover books are stored in boxes. The room reeks of Lysol. When I shut the door to that room tomorrow, I will be shutting the door on a chapter of my life that has been absolutely surreal. I’ve called that room home for the last few years, and I’ve grown very attached to it. When the lights go out, it will be hard to walk away. For all the drama, I will miss it.
