I’m teaching again.
Just when most of my peers are announcing their retirement, I am just getting started--for the third time. In the same job I had almost 10 years ago, which I loved, but from which I was “capriciously and arbitrarily” let go. Don’t look back in the files; it won’t say that, but that’s what I was told when I called the state office to see if I had any recourse. The man who characterized my dismissal above also suggested I might rethink pursuing my wish to be reinstated--as an adjunct I might not have much success against the decision of an administrator, with which I agreed. I let it go, and even though I’m back, the sting sometimes returns.
Seeing all the retirement announcements ignited the most recent spark of disappointment/frustration/indignation. Even starting as late as I did, if I had been teaching the last ten years, I’d have a retirement account, probably some savings, and a solid résumé. Instead, I’m back at 63, hoping to stay long enough to recreate my previous success before my age gets in the way of proficiency and promotion.
I was rehired a few years later and dismissed again . . . for similar arbitrary reasons. You’d think I might stop trying, right? But that’s not what this story is about; it’s about staying connected to doing something you love. And I love teaching. Or facilitating, or guiding, or whatever I could do to continue working with students and sharing my love of writing with them.
When I lost that job, I got different ones, always having to do with imparting information. I taught parenting classes, diversity workshops, and lifelong learning courses. They weren’t always writing classes, but my degree is in Curriculum and Instruction so developing any course was always a happy challenge for me. Thinking about the ways I could deliver information or skills so that students could access it with their own levels of understanding was fun! Doing this work gave back as much as I put in. I was never really crazy about that phrase “teaching moment” because for me, those moments were always “teaching/learning moments”--I learned as much as my students did in almost every single class I taught.
The times when a student’s eyes light up at the moment of understanding are like crack to me. I have hundreds of stories where a student--and I’m talking about 7-year-olds and 70-year-olds alike--discovers something about his or her abilities or creativity or a forgotten memory and you can see the change occur. They know something about themselves now that they didn’t just minutes ago. It’s invigorating and inspiring. And I can’t let it go.
Last summer, I was invited back to teach the freshman English courses I was teaching before. After eight years. During a pandemic. My entrée back was virtual and that learning curve had a steep incline. Transferring my practice--which I had to dust off to begin with--into an entirely new method was daunting. Most days I was staring at a computer screen filled with vague black and gray avatars. After talking to some other teachers and checking out a few webinars on “How to engage your online classes” I changed up my game for the Spring semester. It’s still hard and challenging and new. I’m older and worried about my students’ success and not really crazy about grading papers online. And I love every minute.
Maybe this third time is a charm.
Oh yes, the third time will be the charm 😊