Diary of a Retiring Teacher

The last day of school was Friday, and I didn't cry once.  Not when I hugged the kids goodbye. Not when I cleaned out my mailbox. Not even when I spotted the can of Coke Mr. Lowry left on my desk.  The thing about crying is that once you start, you can almost never stop. That's why I had to wait until Sunday - when no one else but me would be in the building. There was unfinished business to take care of, and Principal Jordan Engle kindly allowed me to keep my keys until I had completed one final task. I had to say goodbye to all the good folks I started with at GICC.  Once upon a time, I was the new kid. Sixteen years old and fresh from Denver, I first entered the halls of GICC with my brothers Joe and Mick in 1971. Dad's business transfer to Grand Island, Nebraska, was a cruel trick, we grumbled. Snatched from the only home, church and school we'd ever known in Denver, our seven youngest siblings and we had been thrust into the Middle of Nowhere hundreds of miles from

Good afternoon, and Happy Mother’s Day. First of all, I’d like to say that Mr. Howard and I chose to retire this year so that we could go out with this very special class. I’d LIKE to say that. But the truth is, we're shot. That does not make, however, the class of '24 ANY less special. From left: Morgan Schulte, Anna Blake, Allison Haney and Rubi Carrasco I am one of the fortunate few who's been able to teach these kids ever since they were in middle school, and it was apparent even then that some of them were already exceptional. Kate Novinski thinks she needs to go to med school to be a doctor. She doesn’t. She could be my doctor right now. Kate, when she was 12 years old, could have said, “I’m skipping English class today,” and I would have said, “Here’s 20 bucks. Take my car.”  Reese Reilly is another girl who wants to be a doctor. There’s nothing that Reese doesn’t do well. But I can imagine her - just as I imagine Kate - in a white lab coat treating her patients with

Once I retire, I worry I will have no friends.  What will I do the rest of my life? Hang out with Mr. Howard? That's another worry. School seems to be the center of our conversations. What will John and I talk about? What if I bore him to tears? What if, after forty years of marriage, he gets tired of me?  Fortunately, John is far too kind to abandon his boring wife. He feels sorry for me because I can't set up Alexa. For the last half century, Central Catholic has been the bulk of my social life. Those good friends are very dear to me, and the current staff - who is remarkable in every way - are the best people in the world. I'll miss them. I'm terrified this post might seem like the written notes of a high school yearbook, but I can't leave without thanking the lovely people I work with.  Every day I share my classroom with three exceptional women. Dawnell Glunz, our speech teacher and school interventionist, breezes in every afternoon with little Shire the Comfor