As promised in my retirement speech that I gave last month, I sent some photos to the staff at school on their first day back. I sent them through at 9:30, while they were all sitting in the first staff meeting of the year. The first was a selfie that I took as Poppy jumped into my lap at the dog beach.
Entitled, “I’m missing you all DREADFULLY.”
The second was entitled, “But where are all the people???”
There were no answers for ages, then after 1PM the replies came flooding through. The poor things had been in meetings up till then. Some people were lovely, writing things like, “Congratulations! Enjoy!”
Others were more succinct.
“Cow.”
How that one made me laugh!
Scout.
The reason I class this as my first day of retirement is that up until now December and January have felt like a normal summer school holidays. I was still getting paid, so every fortnight my wage would come into my account as usual. School kids were out in the wild, roaming the streets. It was Business As Usual.
The only real difference is that I still have a huge pile of ironing to do. Traditionally, on the last day of the holidays I get things ready for the first couple of weeks. I iron my work clothes, I make sure I have a few freezer lunches ready to go… you know, that sort of thing.
Instead, I finished reading The Queen’s Gambit – and started watching the series. Tom29 gave me this novel for Christmas and I’ve been savouring the writing. Usually, I gallop through books to find out what happens, but this was a book I took my time with, reading a chapter and then putting it down again, so I could enjoy how beautifully written it is for a longer time.
So up until the last day of the holidays, it was all “same same.”
But yesterday was different. We woke at the usual time, (thanks to Jeffrey deciding that 6:30 was the proper time to have a good old scratch and shake the bed), but instead of racing out of the house by 7:45, I clipped the dog leads on and we walked to the beach at 8:30 to take the photos you’ve already seen.
It was lovely down there. Strictly speaking, between November and April dogs aren’t supposed to be on the beach, but there were many people there sneaking in a dog walk before the regular people claimed the beach. It was a lovely way to start the day.
Pesto, ready to be frozen.
After I came home and emailed the photos, I had to decide what to do with the day. I felt like continuing to work on the quilt I’m making for Patricia, my ex-boss, but Ryan26 had a friend sleep over and she was still in the guest/sewing room.
Hmmmm… I guess this means that it’s pesto day.
And that’s when I fully realised the beauty of being retired.
There’s always tomorrow!
So what if Wednesday doesn’t work out for quilt making? There’s always tomorrow. Or the next day…
The pressure to Get Things Done by fitting them around my work schedule has gone. It’s quite the heady feeling.
I have an abundance of basil growing and I’ve been putting off making pesto to preserve it. But what better way to start my new life? I gathered platefiuls of it and started work. My hands and my kitchen smelled of basil – one of my favourite smells – and I had a light lunch of pesto pasta with the scrapings from the thermomix bowl.
Usually I’d keep going, processing it until all the basil was used, but meh. After I filled all of the ice cube trays and popped them in the freezer, I decided to leave the rest for another day.
Strawberries from a wicking box. Amazingly, Jeffrey the dog missed these.
I started growing our own food well over a decade ago. It began when one of my boys was having a serious battle with depression and it seemed it was like the only concrete thing I could do to help him, by growing veggies and eliminating as many preservatives and things from his diet. I went all-in – by the time we moved out we had over 15m of vegetable beds, over 30 fruit trees and a flock of chooks. I must have been reasonably fond of him.
The thing about growing food is that it definitely saves you money. Not right away; all of those bags of compost, mulch and seedlings don’t come cheap! But over time, I enjoyed the frugality of serving my boys free food – my favourite flavour! – with veggies and eggs that came from our own property. I knew it was the best possible quality food, also at the best possible price.
Growing food not only saves money, but it provides endless entertainment and problem solving. No matter how much knowledge and experience a gardener gains, you’re never in total control of the outcome of any crop. There are variables in weather, soil composition and pests that you have no control of. This keeps things interesting. For me, gardening is conducting a series of experiments to see what works. There’s always something new to try, which makes this a great interest to have to entertain myself in retirement.
At first, like with everyone who starts growing food, it was all a bit hit and miss. But over time, I grew to learn more and more. I started moving towards growing heirloom veggies and saving my own seeds. My food forest in the suburbs was just becoming fully established when I decided to fast-track my retirement by releasing the equity in the property by drawing up plans for 2 massive townhouses to be built on the property.
It hurt to think of all that hard work being ripped out and built over, but for the longer term, it was the right thing to do for my life. I put out the word that there were free fruit trees, chooks and a solar-operated hen house door and friends rescued everything. And so we moved 16kms away to The Best House in Melbourne.
57 stalks of rhubarb from the garden. This is all from one plant. This is a perennial plant, so it’ll feed me for the rest of my life, probably.
But you know? The good thing about learning about something is that no matter where you go, you take that knowledge with you. I had to wait around 18 months for the sale of the original property to go through, but once I had the money in hand I could redesign the garden to be how I wanted it to be for my retirement.
And the pastime that began with a feverish wish to do SOMETHING useful for my boy has morphed into one of the key interests that will give me untold hours of interest and pleasure in my retirement. Isn’t it funny how life works?
A post I wrote, entitled ‘How do you GROW wealth?‘ has photos of how I designed the back yard to suit my retirement. The back half is filled with wicking boxes and spaces for fruit trees, while the front half has since been covered over with a huge verandah for entertaining. It was a huge ‘investment’ up front to get all of the work done, but now it’s pretty much finished, just as I retired. I can now look forward to many years of quiet enjoyment, pottering around and having fun at home.
I have enough money to retire, but I still have echoing memories of when we were struggling. I like the idea of minimising my outgoings when I’m no longer drawing a wage, so my garden out the back will scratch two itches: the wonderful feeling of frugality when I harvest free food, and the gift I’ll be giving myself of hours of entertainment with the planning, preparation, maintenance and harvesting of everything I grow.
The ‘orchard’ 6 months ago, just after we planted it.
While we were in the second lockdown last year, I ordered some fruit trees and the boys and I created an orchard in the front yard. That was a bit of fun as we were coming into spring. I also ordered 4 columnar apple trees that I placed along the edge of the garden bed, ready to be planted beside the driveway sometime this year.
Then I got to thinking. There’s a lot of space going to waste around these trees. One day there’ll be flowering shrubs to bring beauty (and bees) to this space, but why not do an experiment in the meantime?
I filled 3 large pots with potting mix and planted what I thought was pumpkin seeds that I harvested from the garden last year. Imagine the pumpkin vines meandering around underneath the trees? They’ll grow lots of pumpkins – and pumpkins keep well for months and months. What could go wrong?
Here’s what the orchard looks like now.
Turns out they were zucchini seeds. Zucchini seeds that are a hybrid of two sorts that I had growing near each other in the yard last year – a mix of ‘Black Jack’ and ‘Tromboccino’. Let’s call them ‘Frogdancer Zucchini.’ There are 11 fruit trees hidden underneath all of this rampant growth. I’m happy… don’t get me wrong… but millions of pumpkins would keep for far longer than millions of zucchini.
I’ve had to swing into action.
Here are 8 large zucchinis.
Just from these 8 zucchini alone, I’ve chopped and frozen nearly 12kg/26lb worth of 200g bags. I add chopped and frozen zucchini to soups/pasta sauces/casseroles – anything to add a little more goodness and bulk. With 60 meals’ worth in the freezer already, my Ma Ingalls energy for providing for my family for the colder months of 2021 is now satisfied. The hundred or so that are still growing will be eaten fresh or given away.
Frugal free food not just for us but for everyone else!
Gardening for food varies from year to year. Last year I had tomatoes coming out of our ears. It was the perfect year for a glut of tomatoes. In a pandemic, when you don’t want to go to the shops, tomatoes are the perfect base for heaps of different meals. They taste even better when they’re free. I just froze them in 400g bags, just the same size as a tin.
Last year we had hardly any zucchinis. This year it’s the reverse. I guess it keeps things interesting.
As I enter the brave new world of retirement, I like the fact that I have interests that don’t have to break the bank. I’ve spent a lot of money setting up the garden, but from now on it’s all smooth sailing. I’ll be learning more about growing food from seed I’ll harvest myself, so over time the food I grow will be extremely cheap. I’ll be making my own compost and fertiliser so I won’t even have those costs.
The other things I like doing are also pretty cost-effective. Even a hobby like quilting, which can cost a lot when you’re buying brand new fabrics, batting and thread, gives HOURS of entertainment as you’re sewing away. It’s very cheap when you make quilts from scraps and even sew together smaller pieces of batting to use up what you have. Knitting? Also gives hours of entertainment.
This first year of retirement has overseas travel being taken off the table. Australia’s borders aren’t opening up until 2022, which frankly, I’m quite happy with. We’ve fought too hard to beat this virus to let it all go now, especially in Melbourne.
I’m thinking that my first year of retirement will be a quiet one, with short hops to places inside Victoria (in case the borders close again) and for the rest of the time just puddling around here at home. The hard years of HAVING to be frugal have had the happy byproduct of giving me endless ways to entertain myself without having to spend up big.
After I press ‘publish’ on this post I’ll be popping up to the local library to pick up a couple of books I’ve reserved, then I’ll come back home to continue working on a quilt I’m making for Patricia, the principal from my old job. It’s a very hot day today, so I’ll be inside in the aircon, listening to (free) podcasts as I assemble the quilt I’m making from fabric I already had lying around.
Having frugal things to do isn’t a deprivation. I’ll be as happy as a pig in muck. Later today Ryan26 is going to stay at a friend’s house. David27 is over at his girlfriend’s house, so I’ll be Home Alone. I’ll dine on leftovers from the birthday celebration we threw Tom29 yesterday, then I’ll either read one of the library books or watch something on Netflix. If I feel like talking to someone I’ll have the dogs, who hang upon my every word.
Honestly, unless I’m travelling overseas (where I deny myself NOTHING!), I quite happily live off the smell of an oily rag. This gives me confidence moving forward into retirement. I know that if the worst happens, I can cut my expenses to the bone and I’ll be able to weather the storms. I’ve cash-flowed the expensive things while I was still working – I’m getting my ensuite revamped at the moment – and now I can settle into enjoying the simple things that I’ve found give me so much pleasure.
I’ve put a lot of thought into how I’d like my retirement life to look like. In 2 days’ time, teachers go back to work. Up until now I’ve felt like I was still on summer holidays. So in 2 days’ time my retirement will begin.
I can feel my stress levels slowly unravelling at the very thought.
I’ve realised that now that I’ve retired, there’s one thing I’ll never get again – the December inundation of Lindt balls. Kids give them. Teachers give them to each other. Every year I used to come home with bucketloads of them. To tell the truth, I was so over them.
But this year? I was about to start giving them away as I always did, when I suddenly realised… this is IT! I’ll never have too many of these chocolatey morsels again.
So I’ve been eating them. Two or three a night for a sweet treat in front of Netflix. Savouring them. I’d actually forgotten how nice they are.
I have two packets to go.
It turns out that both Purple from A Purple Life and I have had the Month of Naps in the first burst of our early retirement lives. She retired in November, a month earlier than I did, and a few decades before I did – at 30. It’s now a calendar month after I retired and the naps continue unabated.
And when I say ‘naps’; I mean serious naps. Two hours or so. Dreams. Waking up in the same position that you drifted off to sleep in. It’s crazy.
I wasn’t totally taken by surprise by this. Every summer holidays I have a week or two of days where a nap is needed, but then I bounce back to normal and I start Getting Things Done. I’ve read blog posts where other people have said that they had an extended period of time where they’d need to sleep a lot.
So I was ready – eager, even! Who doesn’t like a revivifying nanna nap in the middle of the day?
But this is ridiculous. I’m so glad I didn’t schedule a huge round the world trip – or in these covid times; round Australia trip – to celebrate my new life-long freedom. At this rate, I’d still be on the outskirts of Melbourne.
A couple of days ago I sacrificed having a nanna nap and instead I drove up to Ballarat to help my youngest son, Evan24, to move back to Melbourne after finishing his course. I wrote about him 2 years ago in a post called “What has my second-gen FIRE child learned about money? He and his girlfriend have finished their degrees – he in Acting and she in Music Theatre – and they’ve moved back to Melbourne to begin the next stage of their lives.
It’s funny how both of us are at a similar point. After we arrived at the new place ahead of the moving truck, he and I decided to pop out for a quick bite and then we sat in the car and gossiped. I haven’t seen all that much of him over the last 3 years and as I’m not the sort of parent who demands daily updates, when we do get together there’s a lot to catch up on. Speaking in person is very different from talking on the phone.
At one point I asked him what his plans were for the rest of the year. He smiled and said, “Well, my job, before I find a job, is to find a job! But apart from that, my days are clear. It’s up to me to fill them.”
Then he looked over at me and said, “A bit like you, I guess.”
I laughed. It’s true.
I suggested we go out to dinner when he turns 30, to look back on how his 20’s were spent. He’s going into a notoriously unstable field, so the next few years are going to be interesting. Fortunately, he’s worked in retail, hospo and in an office, so he’ll have a lot of scope to find a reasonable day job while he creates opportunities for the acting side. And his twenties are definitely the time to do it.
I’ve just realised there’s at least one thing that I’ll always have from my teaching days. See this apricot? Five years ago my first year 12 Theatre Studies class gave me an apricot tree as a thank-you after our production. It languished in a pot until I planted it at The Best House in Melbourne last year.
It bore fruit for the first time this year. Only a few, but omg so delicious.
Instead of a bucketful of Lindt balls each Christmas, I’ll be picking a bucketful of apricots that were given to me, with love, by one of my favourite classes.
Clearly, when you’re writing in the FIRE pace, a post about giving your retirement speech is something everyone wants to read. Most readers ever in a single day. Gee, if I put some effort into publicising this blog, I would have stumbled across this tactic far earlier and I would’ve retired YEARS ago! This post even beat the numbers I got when I won the Rockstar Finance blog battle in 2018.
Good times…
This morning I woke up, drowsily hearing rain on the tin roof and knew I had the day off. Then I thought, ‘I didn’t ring the daily organiser to tell her I wasn’t coming in!’ and I sat bolt upright in bed before I realised.
It’s a funny thing, being a teacher and retiring at the beginning of the school holidays. For the whole of my working life, I’ve had 5 or 6 weeks of holidays at this time of the year. So, even though I know in my head that I’m not going back to work, in the rest of my body it honestly feels like the summer holidays.
I still have my wage coming in until the end of the holidays, which also makes it seem like business as usual. However, my head, which (as I’ve already told you), knows that I’m retired, made me go to Gardenworld yesterday to buy expensive tree ferns and other plants to fill in the last garden bed in my new outdoor room. I also paid the deposit on getting my ensuite remodelled. I like paying for jobs like this while I still have money coming in.
2021 will be a year of only local travel, staying close to home and enjoying the space I’ve created.
Every year I give my sons and nieces a book on personal finance. Some have read every book, some have thrown them onto their bookshelves unopened while some have dipped in and out of them, but I figure that when it dawns on each person that they need to have a handle on this money stuff, they’ll have info right at their fingertips. Already that makes them better off than most people, right?
After Christmas, I’ll put a new page up at the top, where I’ll list what I’ve given them each year and why.
Coffee grounds and cold sausages.
After my last day, as I was literally leaving the school with the last bounty I’ll be taking from this place – a tray of cooked snags and the last of the coffee grounds from the staff room – ( I wrote about making the most of what your workplace can offer HERE) – one of the economics teachers stopped me and asked if I’d be interested in giving a talk to the year 9s in a new elective they’re offering next year about personal finance.
“It sounds like you’d be the perfect person to talk to them,” he said.
“Are you kidding?!? I’d be rapt!”
“It’d be twice,” he said. “It’s a semester subject.”
“That’s why I’m retiring,” I said. “So I can do the things I want to do. This’ll definitely be one of them.”
It’ll be interesting to see the topics they’ll be covering.
Ah yes. I’d “written” my speech the night before – just a series of dot points – and I was raring to go.
My friend Megan volunteered to be my Designated Driver once I asked her, so she arrived to pick me up and we drove into school. Everyone’s desks were piled with Christmas cards, gifts and chocolates and we were all full of anticipation for the day ahead.
“I’m really looking forward to your speech, Frogdancer,” said a friend.
“Oh, I’m not giving a speech. I’m scared of public speaking,” I said. The look of shock on her face before I started laughing was priceless.
As we all found a seat at the big tables in the hall, I couldn’t help but reflect on how lucky we’ve been in Melbourne, coronavirus wise. We had one of the toughest lockdowns in the world and could barely leave our homes, but now, just before Christmas, life is pretty much back to normal with no new cases in the community for over 40 days.
When I decided to retire earlier in the year I was annoyed to think that I’d have to give my speech via a Google Meet rather than having everyone in the room with me. It’s so much easier to hold people when you’re actually with them. And now? I got my wish. Fortunate Frogdancer strikes again!
Our principal… let’s call her Patricia because it’s a name… gave her speech. She mentioned that she was going to have 2 huge celebrations this year – even though she hates surprise parties – but because of corona she ended up with “just me and Robert” for her milestone birthday, and for their anniversary “just me, Robert, the dog and cat.”
‘Excellent!’ I thought, making a mental note. I’d left mental space to refer to others’ speeches and Patricia had, all unknowing, given me the perfect way to start my speech.
I was expecting to be called last, as due to the school’s tradition the speeches go in order of how long the people have been there, but for some reason I was called second-last. Didn’t matter – I was good to go no matter when I was called.
After she gave her speech about me, calling me a bit of a rebel and saying how I sneak the kids off to the Theatre for drama lessons – how did she know??? – it was my turn to speak.
I got up and bounded towards the podium like a pudgy gazelle. This was my moment in the sun!
People on Twitter have asked that I publish my speech. I can’t give the word-for-word version because whenever I do a speech I speak TO the audience; I don’t read at them. So what follows is an approximation of what I actually said.
(I grab the sides of the podium, lay down my piece of paper with the dot points and half turn to face Patricia.)
“Isn’t it funny how people are different? I’d kill for a surprise birthday party and my kids are USELESS! They’ve never once thought to do it. The only two surprise parties that people have thrown me have been from kids at this school. “
(Murmurs of ‘aww’ from the audience.They think this is going to be a typical teacher speech – except for the people who know me well. They were strapped in and waiting.)
“When I went on my trip to Europe in 2015 – a trip I planned when I was 15 and didn’t get to actually do until I was 51, my year 12 Theatre kids got my son Evan to pretend to take me out for a farewell mother/son dinner. When we got to the restaurant the kids all popped up from behind a booth yelling “SURPRISE!” It was lovely.
“The other time was when a class of year 7s spent all lunchtime blowing up about 500 balloons to fill the classroom. It was hilarious. By the time I got there in period 5 some of them were white-faced and tottering slightly… I think they were hyperventilating from all the balloons!
(Turning again to face Patricia. A bit of background here: every year we have our first staff meeting for the year on the day before the kids arrive back. In her ‘welcome to the staff’ speech she always says, “No parent hands us their child and says, “Do a mediocre job on this one.” It’s a good saying about how every child we have in our classes is important. )
“But speaking as a parent of kids who came to this school Patricia, I’ve got a bit of a bone to pick with you…
(She laughs and looks slightly apprehensive. She knows me.)
“I would have been HAPPY to have a mediocre job done with my boys!
(Huge laugh from the staff.Turns back to the audience.)
“Look, for those of you who haven’t taught them, they’re affable. They mean well, but they’re as dumb as a box of bricks. A mediocre job would have been just fine. But it’s a testament to the professionalism and dedication of the people here in front of me, all but 4 teachers did an outstanding job with them. (I could see people wondering who the 4 teachers were. heh heh. Just as I wanted!)
“Just to be fair, I taught 2 of them, so I’ll just leave that bit of info with you…
(I looked down to my left and saw a group of young teachers. I don’t know who they were – we have a very large staff – but one girl was staring at me with her jaw dropped literally as far as it could go. You could almost hear her thinking, “How could any mother speak about her children like that?” I started laughing at the look of shock on her face.)
“Speaking of having kids at the school with you, it’s so much fun. Seriously, even if you’re like me and don’t like babies (shocked gasps and laughter) have a shit-ton of them. Have a baker’s dozen! It’s like a sport that’ll give you entertainment here for years.
(I have to whip away the veil of anonymity for a second with my oldest son. On the blogs I call him Tom, but his real name is Jack, with a surname of 3 syllables that start with the letters DA, pronounced like the da in ‘dad’. This is important for the story to follow.)
“We all know Jenny Smith. So nice, so lovely and caring. When my son Jack Da… was in year 8, I bumped into her and asked how he was going.
“I don’t teach your son,” she said.
“Yes you do. He has a different surname to mine,” I said, thinking that might be the problem. “He’s Jack Da…. in year 8.”
“I don’t teach anyone by that name,” she said, getting cross. When I insisted that yes she did, she whisked me off to her desk to check her class list in her chronicle. In those days, it was all handwritten.
So I grabbed the chronicle and scanned the list, looking for the D’s. I have to tell you, it’s a sad day when the kid who had driven you to drink is clearly doing the same to other people. There, clear as day, she’d written “Jack Daniels.”
(The staff roared. Jenny was laughing, red faced and mopping her eyes.)
“But yeah, having kids at school with you is like a sport. Here’s how its done:
“When you realise you have your kid’s class as a sub, you walk towards the class waiting outside the room. Your kid sees you, nods, then as you don’t deviate away, you can see them realising that their Mum is going to teach the class. They avoid eye contact, but we both know it isn’t going to save them.
“You can launch your attack right away, getting up to the class and pretending to see them for the first time. “Jack darling!” and you give him a hug. “I’ve missed you!”
“Or, you play it cool. As you move through them to the door, you hear the kids telling your kid, “That’s your Mum.” See? I told you my kids were dumb – even the other kids know it.
“You unlock the door, then sternly tell the kids to line up. Then you say, “David, sweetie, do you want to go in first and have the pick of all the seats?
(People are laughing like crazy. It’s wonderful.)
“Or you can get them when you’re calling the roll. “Sarah Snozbag, Joe Lunchbucket, (sigh and go all syrupy sweet) Ryan Jones” and blow him a kiss. The best one though, is if you play it cool all through these steps, treating the class as normal. Then, just after you finish the roll, you stand up and say, “Just before I tell you what your teacher wants you to do today, Evan, would you like to grab your books and come and do your work at the big table with Mummy?” Seriously, have kids just for this reason. Its worth it.
“Sometimes though, working at the school means you see things that most parents don’t see. Sometimes it’s heartbreaking. Like Jack’s first swimming sports day in year 7. It took him a while to find his feet and make friends, so on that day I had to watch my child walking all day, on his own, doing the circuit around the pool over and over again, with a set look on his face which I knew meant he was just countng down the hours before we could go home. It broke my heart to see him, knowing I couldn’t do anything to help. But then, two years later, I was able to watch him on the hill with all his mates, laughing and having so much fun. Given time and positive action – everything always turns out better.
( Now comes the time when I wanted to switch gears and get into the serious stuff. The audience was with me 100%. They were on board. It was time.)
“Working at this school gave a lot of things to my family. A great education for the boys, friends for all of us, but most of all it gave us financial stability. Not everyone here knows, but when I was 34 I left my husband. I had a 5-year-old, a three-year-old, a two-year-old and an eleven-month-old. We had $120 in the bank, so I withdrew all of it and gave my then-husband half. I had a 100K mortgage – and before you all roll your eyes, the interest rate was around 10.8%, so shut up! I drove an old Tarago van, which was as sexy and aerodynamic as driving a loaf of bread. Whenever it rained and I turned right, a trickle of water from the sunroof would run down the back of my neck. Invigorating.
I couldn’t go back to work with so many kids – the childcare fees’ would’ved killed me, so I stayed at home on the Sole Parents pension until Evan went to school. At that time, it was around 18K a year. My ex-husband took cash jobs so he’d avoid child support, so I was getting $20/month from him. We were literally on the bare bones of our arses.
(The room was silent. You could have heard a pin drop.)
A year or two later, it was the beginning of winter The only heater my house had was an oil heater, that ran from a tank of oil at the side of the house that I had to fill up every year. Turned out that just when I was about to get new oil, the brakes went on the car. I only had enough money to take care of one job. I had about this much oil in the tank, (holds up hands maybe 30cms/a foot apart), so I thought that if I could eke it out, we could maybe get through.
“So every morning I’d get the boys up, dress them in their parkas and they’d run around all day. Little kids have great circulatory systems. I’d keep feeling their hands and then in the late afternoon when their hands would start getting chilly, I’d turn the fire on. Dinner, bath, bed, then I’d turn the fire off, snuggle down on the couch under a doona, and drink the one glass of wine I’d allow myself.
“Because the fire was hardly switched on, a family of mice moved in under it and I had to get mouse bait. I think my lowest point was one night, as I was sitting on the couch under the doona, I saw 3 little shapes sneak out from under the heater and start nibbling on the bait. I could hear the sound of the pellets knocking against the side of the tin. I sat there and cried. How could it come to this? I was the first in my family to be tertiary dedicated – hell, on my Mum’s side I was the first one to graduate high school. How could this happen to someone who was supposed to have brains?
“Fast forward a couple of years and Jack was starting year 7 at this school. The previous year I’d done some CRT work here and I saw the principal at the time. It’s funny how your life is held together by such thin threads. At first I thought, ‘maybe I should go over and say hello. But what if he doesn’t recognise me? I’ll look like a fool. ‘
“Then I thought, “What if I DON’T go up to say hi and he sees me and knows who I am. I’ll look like a stuck-up bitch. That’d be WORSE!’
“So I went up to him and of course he recognised me – he’s only human – and we were talking when he suddenly said, “Hang on, you’ve got ESL (English as a second language) on your resume. How would you like a full-time job in terms 2, 3 and 4? Our regular teacher is taking leave.”
I said yes, of course, and then asked when the interview was. He smiled and said, “You’ve just had it.”
“Imagine if I hadn’t have gone up to have a chat?
“I decided that because I had a stable income for the rest of the year, we’d get a new car. So I took the boys up to a car yard and I said, “I want to buy a good second-hand station wagon for around 20K with no sunroof!”
As the contracts kept coming, I renovated the house. The day the ducted heating went in was very sweet. We’d never be cold again.
I then talked briefly about the importance of financial independence for teachers. We influence young people every single day and if you are burnt out and don’t want to be in the classroom you poison your subject for the kids. After all, they’re not stupid. If you don’t want to be there, why should they?
I also told them how to find this blog, dancing as a Frogdancer would.They all laughed at that. They were ready for me to deliver the hilarious kick-arse ending. It was all going beautifully. I was so happy.
I glanced down at my notes, then…
… remember the guy from the English faculty who tried to psych me out on Monday? He’s also a Drama teacher, so he knows full well that you NEVER pull focus from someone who’s performing. Ever. It’s never been done in all my 17 years at the school. Not even when there was a 30-minute speech about fuschia-pink suitcases did anyone interrupt. We all got very drunk waiting for her to finish, but she had her moment uninterrupted.
Anyway, like I said, I glanced at my notes then this guy calls out, “Just stick to your notes, Frogdancer. We’re already 20 minutes over the schedule.”
O. M. GoD. I don’t know if he heard the gasp from the audience but I sure did. It was so rude and I know full well what he did was deliberate. As an English and Drama teacher, he knows all about the narrative flow, how important this performance was to me and he could see how the audience was in the palm of my hand. I don’t know why, but for some reason he wanted all eyes upon him.
I was FURIOUS. But I wasn’t going to let him rock me or pull the rug out from under me. He clearly didn’t stop to think about how Frogdancer Jones wins every work drama people try and drag her into. Admittedly, there haven’t been many of my 17 years, but he knows of a few that I’ve taken on and won.
I turned to face him, taking my piece of paper and turning it very obviously upside down. Then I said, with a glare of ice but with a smile, “Oh no. My speech is written in Arabic now. Guess I’ll just have to continue on as I was. Sorry. “
I turned back to the audience, clapped my hands together and said brightly, “Now where was I? Oh yeah! I’m retiring!’
They laughed, bless them, and we were off on the journey together again. Phew!
“You know the thing I’m most looking forward to about retirement? Getting out from under the thumb of the boss of this school. (A gasp of surprised laughter from the staff, all eyes glancing at Patricia. I didn’t look at her, keeping my gaze on them.)
“You know the woman who makes you have a good or a bad day; a good or bad year; who runs our time from the moment we wake up until we leave this place at the end of the day?
Then I pretended to realise what they were all thinking.
“Oh no! It’s not Patricia! SHE’S not the boss here. It’s Latchy, the timetabler!
(HUGE burst of laughter. I knew this would be a kick-arse ending. This train was still moving, baby! )
“So Latchy, what I’m going to say next is going to infuriate you. On Term 1, day 1 at 9 am, I’m going to send you a photo – actually, I’ll send ALL of you a photo of the dogs and I on the dog beach.
“Then I’m going to come home and have a wee, even though it’s not recess!!!
(I was beginning to think people were having a wee right where they were, they were laughing and clapping so much.)
‘In fact, I’m going to let my bowels and bladder run free all day – toilet paper will be flying around my house like confetti!
“Then, I’m going to sit on the couch and read a book for… a very long time.
“Finally, because I don’t want to let all this freedom go to my head, after lunch I’m going to take a nanna nap – EVEN THOUGH I DON’T HAVE ANY GRANDCHILDREN!!
(Huge laughter. It was music to my ears. I’d wanted to give a great speech ever since I first started at the school and I knew I’d done it. I could leave with my head held high)
They gave me a standing ovation. I bowed, stretching my arms wide and walked back to my seat. I was very happy.
Then I got stuck into the bubbly.
The rest of the day was perfect. The staff band, ‘Duck and Cover’, played a few songs so we were all up on the dancefloor. So much fun! Lunch was delish and we had an icecream van come for dessert. Yum.
The really cool thing was that I had a constant stream of people coming up wanting to talk about my speech. Some just wanted to say how hilarious they found it, but a huge number of people wanted to talk about how the middle part resonated with them. They were brought up by single Mums, or they were doing the single parent thing themselves or had people close to them doing it. My speech really touched them and we had the most amazing conversations.
“I wish I’d known about all this before!” was what a few people said. I felt the same way. People don’t seem to talk much about the struggles we go through. I don’t know why.
It almost made me sad I was leaving. Well, almost…
I had one more day of work to get through. Friday – 9 AM till 12:30 PM.
That was another fun day. Lots of conversations, a breakfast sausage sizzle that quite a few people seemed to need after their partying at the Bowls Club the night before (I was there for a while, talking and dancing) and then it was time to leave.
We call our section of the staffroom ‘The Danger Zone.’ Loz snapped this photo of me after everyone had left. My desk is the one in the bottom left-hand corner.
I spent around a third of my life teaching at this school. I’ve loved it, there’s no doubt about that. But now – time for new adventures!
Today consisted of 2 meetings and the English faculty farewell lunch. The meetings were ok but honestly, pretty pointless for me. The art meeting, which I have to attend because I teach drama, was all about next year. So was the English meeting an hour and a half later. One of the additional jobs was ‘tidy your desk” so when everyone split into year level groups to finalise the lesson plans for next semester, I walked out, telling Sam – the head of the English faculty – that I was tidying my desk as per the list.
Instead, I decided that there was no point in hanging onto these cards. My very good friend Scott first had the idea of ordering ally things from Vistaprint to liven up classes and I’ve continued the tradition since he left the profession almost 10 years ago. I give them out when I hand back their work. Anyone who earns an ‘OUTSTANDING” ( anything between 18 -20/20) gets a round of applause from the class, one of these cards and a hearty handshake from me.
Anyone who gives me a ‘limp fish’ handshake gets a lesson in how to shake hands properly. Ugh… nothing worse.
At first I walked around to all of the English teachers’ desks and put a card on each. After all, I knew it would be a surprise because everyone else was at the meeting. There was still a stack of cards left, so I grabbed a biro and crossed out the ‘in English’ line and left them on everyone else’s desks until I ran out. Just a bit of fun to finish on.
Then it was back to the English meeting for the lunch, where the 3 people who were leaving were expected to make a speech.
According to the other two women leaving, none of us had given this much thought. I’m a bleeding-edge type of teacher, so I knew I’d come up with something on the spur of the moment. The other teachers who were leaving were immensely popular and were moving on to different schools next year, one to advance her career, the other to be closer to home and her young family.
Sam gave a little speech before each one, then a close friend of the others also said some words. In both cases it was all very emotional and heartfelt, with tears, hugging and phrases such as “loves the kids to bits”, “exceptional teacher” and “full of empathy for everyone” were said.
I determined that my speech would be a bit different. After all, I’m a stranger to the gentler emotions of love and empathy.
Sam gave his speech, talking about how my quirkiness would be missed.Apparently collecting compost materials from the school, showing off quilting and knitting projects and other things like that are things that not everyone does at work. Amazing. Frogdancer loves the students, very professional, blah blah blah.
Then he asked Adrian, the closest thing to a work husband I’ve had since Scott left, to say a few words.
“What?!?” Adrian spluttered. “Geeze Sam, it’d be nice to have some notice!”
“I emailed you this morning!”
Adrian got up, casting an apologetic look my way. “I’m sorry Frogdancer, but this will be from the top of my head,” he said.
He gave a lovely little speech, saying things about how I always come to work expecting to have fun. Fun is starting to leach away from the profession in the last few years, he said, (which I whole-heartedly agree with), but Frogdancer Jones still extracts every drop of fun she can. Loves the students, not so keen on meetings with adults, blah blah…
Then Brock got up and said part of the quirkiness I apparently exit is my frugality. Well, let’s be honest, he called me a tightarse, bringing up the months that I used to take the train into work really early in the morning to get a free train ride.
He obviously had no idea that at that stage I was paying over 70% of my take-home wage on bridging finance for The Best House in Melbourne, so literally every penny counted. But that’s ok.
Then it was my turn… at last!
“Well guys, thanks for the lovely things you said but your speeches have made me really sad. Clearly you don’t know me AT ALL!!”
The big laugh showed that I was off to a good start.
“I don’t love the kids – couldn’t give a rat’s arse about them!” Another laugh… phew. “ I only come to work to socialise and pick up coffee grounds and rotting veggie scraps for the garden!”
Then I went all serious to give some light and shade to this thing that’s coming out of my mouth. (Really should’ve thought about this beforehand.)
I talked about how lucky we all are to be teaching English. We get to know our kids in a way that no other faculty does, though drama comes close. Our lessons cover all sorts of areas so we’re never bored and the kids will make you laugh every single day, if you let them.
Then I looked around the room and said how fortunate I felt to be have spent my career working with such extraordinary people who do their jobs so well. “But if I never see any of you again, hey, that’s ok!!”
Another big laugh. Another internal phew! That joke could’ve gone either way… LOL.
I can’t remember what else I said. My speech was shorter than the others, mainly because I saw some glazed looks starting to appear on people’s faces earlier. Me, I like to make ‘em laugh and leave with them wanting more.
Everyone in the faculty had a choice of bubbly, wine or gin to take. I picked out a bottle of Mother’s Ruin. I’d noticed on Sunday night when I made a G & T that I only had enough gin for one more drink so it came at the perfect time.
Fortunate Frogdancer strikes again!
The afternoon was free, so I used it to fill in and submit the exit and CRT paperwork. There’s no going back now! I decided to hand in my keys at the same time. I can’t see why I’d need to unlock a classroom with no kids around.
I also walked down to the canteen and picked up the bin I’d bought to collect the veggie scraps. It’s perfect for a weed/dog poo bin for the back yard. No point buying another one if the original bin I bought wasn’t being used. Now is that frugality or tightarsery at work?
I’m typing this sitting at the hairdresser waiting to get beautified for my official leaving speech on Thursday. It’s one of my days off but there’s no way Frogdancer Jones is giving up the opportunity to perform with all eyes upon her! I live for this stuff.
I have no clear idea of what I’m going to say yet, but no doubt inspiration will strike between then and now. My friend Megan is my designated driver, so watch me have some fun when my speech is over and I can relax! The bowls club is going to ROCK!
Send good vibes for me on Thursday. If inspiration DOESN’T hit I’ll be a nervous wreck.
People kept asking me how I was feeling. It was a surreal sort of day. In my head of course I knew that this was the last time I was going to walk into the Theatre and teach my group of year 9s, but emotionally, I don’t think it’s hit me yet.
As I said to all the people who asked, “I honestly don’t think it’ll feel totally real until Term 1, Day 1 next year when I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn and race off to be at school by 8:35.”
The year 7s and 8s were at school but they had an activity day. The year 8s rotated around different sports but I – thank god! – was with the year 7s. They had a day of indigenous activities, where they learned aboriginal games, drawings, dancing and such. Much more interesting.
I had the first 2 periods of the day with 7M, my wriggly puppies class. The middle of the day was free, so I started moving more stuff from my desk to the bins/car, and also did some hand-stitching on the quilt I’m making for Jenna, Evan24’s girlfriend.
Then I had my last real class. Year 9 Drama.
As the bell went, I walked through the staff common room calling, “Just in case anyone’s interested, I’m off to teach my last class ever!!”
There was cheering , clapping, with some people calling out, “Aw, shut up!” and others shouting, “You’ll be back!”
I rounded the corner to the Theatre and the kids were gathered at the door, waiting. I saw a couple of gift bags out of the corner of my eye but I pretended not to see as I grabbed my keys and unlocked the sliding glass door.
I looked up and there were Darby and Izzy, from my semester 1 class.
“Well this is a blast from the past!” I said. “What are you two doing here?”
Atahan, who is the sweetest kid, stepped forward with an enormous box of chocolates.
“We made this a group of 3 effort,” he said. Izzy gave me another box of chocolates, while Darby handed me a gift bag with a bottle of red wine.
“Don’t ask me where I got this,” he muttered. Bloody hell, I thought. He probably swiped it from the back of his parents’ liquor cabinet…
They also gave me a card. Whenever I mark the roll, I mix up the order of the kids and the last one is always announced by, “… and the hideous blah blah blah!” Kids, once they get over the shock of hearing this for the first couple of lessons, look forward to being hideous. The three of them signed the card with “hideous Darby”, “hideous Isabel” and “hideous Atahan.”
Fortunate Frogdancer strikes again, with all of the lazy kids not bothering to turn up for the last day of classes. I had 11 really keen drama students to work with.
“Ok,” I said, once I marked the roll and Atahan was the last hideous student I’ll ever teach, “what are the games that you most like to play?”
In true Drama class form, they chose Theatre Sports games, so we had almost an hour of the funniest improvisational games. We had such a good time. Every now and then I’d join in and they loved it. Drama kids have the best senses of humour!
It was truly the best way to close this chapter of my life.
At the end of the day, as the kids were leaving, a year 9 girl came up to me and said, “I heard you were retiring. I just wanted to say thank you for year 7 English. I loved coming to class that year.” She paused and said, “Do you remember me?”
“Of course I do!” I said. “It’s just that you’ve changed so much – you’re so TALL!”
I gave her a hug – we were both wearing masks so it felt safe – and I thought, wow. The kids here at this school are so lovely.
At the end of the day, as I raised a glass to myself to toast this memorable day, I felt satisfied. This may sound big-headed, but as I looked back on my career I felt proud that I did it well. I’m a damned good teacher, The kids enjoyed my classes and so it was easy to shoehorn the knowledge that they needed into their heads. If they enjoy being in front of you then the job is so much easier.
A couple of years ago I had the idea to write Dad jokes on the board at the beginning of every English lesson. That was a stroke of genius. I only wish I’d been bright enough to think of it years before. The kids absolutely loved it, and if by any chance I’d forget, someone would always ask for them.
Oh my god, how unprofessional of me to forget!” I’d say, and I’d grab the whiteboard marker. Every time I’d finish a quilt, I’d bring it in to show the kids and we’d talk about creativity and how important it is to explore that side of ourselves. When I was teaching the year 12s, I’d make timtam fudge and bring it in whenever they were doing an assessment “to keep their strength up.”
I’ll miss those little things, I think.
Adrian, one of my friends at work, was laughing at me, saying that I’m deluding myself about all of this being the last time.
“We all know you’ll be back,” he said. “There’ll be someone who gets sick or wants to go on holidays early and they’ll call you back in.”
“I’ll probably say yes,” I said. “That trip to Antarctica isn’t going to pay for itself, you know!”
Someone else, I don’t remember who, then said, “Yeah, but the difference will be that you’ll be doing it on your own terms. You don’t want to work that day, you just say no. You’ll be choosing to come here and teach. That’ll make all the difference.”
Only a week to go… I give my farewell speech at the staff Christmas luncheon on Thursday. I think I’m going to enjoy myself!
(My friend Mr Groovy wrote this post about what to expect from early retirement when he heard that I was pulling the pin. The film clip is a classic!)
The cupcakes you see above were baked and decorated by one of my year 7 girls. She met me at the school gate yesterday with a big cake box and the most beautiful card. I don’t know if I wrote about the ‘Creativity Challenges’ that I was running while I was teaching from home during the two lockdowns this year.
Anyway, just to bring you up to speed, every couple of weeks or so we’d have a ‘catch-up class’ built into the English curriculum, so that kids who were struggling with remote learning could… well… catch up. I decided to use that time to test out who in my year 7 classes were actually human.
Creativity, whether it be making something tangible and useful out of raw materials or devising something artistic and beautiful is part of what makes us human. It satisfies something in the soul that nothing else can. So every couple of weeks we’d all share what we’d been making. I showed them the sausage dog quilt patches I was making for the quilt for Ryan25 – more on this in a future post – while they’d show off drawings, sculptures, things they’d been knitting, embroidering or designing. When someone asked if baking was creative and I said yes, Ariela’s eyes lit up. She started showing photos of the cakes she’d been baking in lockdown. They were Masterchef-worthy.
The card that she gave with the cupcakes mentioned the creativity challenges, saying that she found them very inspiring. This made me happy. I was hoping to reach at least a couple of kids and have them springboard off into expliring all the creative things that come their way. 🙂
There was a very happy staffroom at recess yesterday, all munching away on those cupcakes. (I had 2…)
Tomorrow I have my last year 7 classes ever. I’m finishing up ‘Back to the Future 2’ with 7M, while I’ll give 7D one last Drama class. The last piece of work I’ll ever mark was a grammar test – God, how I hate grammar. I certainly didn’t become an English teacher for the love of grammar. I finished marking the test while the class was working on something else, then leaped up, waved my hands in the air, declaring, “This is the LAST EVER grammar test I’ll ever have to mark! Whoopee!” The class applauded.
Friday will be my last ever Drama class.
I’ve had my last ever staff meeting – how sweet is that? Next week is full of meetings planning next year’s classes. I have to go to them, even though I clearly don’t give a tinker’s cuss what they decide. I’m hand-sewing binding on a couple of quilts I’m giving for Christmas presents, which takes hours per quilt, so I’ll probably just sit there with that and listen to all of the conversations.
I also have to attend the final meeting with the head of English, as we talk about my career achievements for this year and what I plan to aim to achieve next year. I’m HAPPY to talk about all that I plan to achieve next year with him! Sadly, pedagogy, literacy, rubrics and other exciting teacherly topics will be nowhere on that list.
Over the next 2 years Operation Beautify will be happening at my place. While I’m waiting for the world to become less riddled with COVID so I can go to Antarctica, I’m planning on doing work around the house and garden to make the place look prettier.
There’ll be spots of colour in the garden; the new outdoor room which looks so new and stark at the moment will be transformed and softened to become a far more welcoming space and the interior of the house will have artwork (and a new ensuite) to be even more of a haven for the boys, dogs and I.
Not that the dogs care too much about artwork…
Every now and then I’m hoping to trot off to a school to do some CRT work or exam invigilation to help pay for Antarctica and break up the weeks, but I fully expect to be spending most of my time at home for 2021, just catching up on rest, detoxing from the pace of working life and puddling around doing all the little things that I enjoy doing.
I was walking on the top oval, doing yard duty at lunchtime yesterday, when my principal said this to me. She and one of the assistant principals were talking with some kids on the oval while the other 2 APs were playing cricket with some girls. I walked up to them, pretending to think they were adults fraternising with the kids and threatening to chase them off.
I got a hug from the principal who said that she was going to miss me, and then she said, “See that group of kids on the table over there? They’ve carried a rock from there”, she pointed, “to there” she pointed again, “and they’ve called it Dwayne.”
“Of course they have,” I said. “I’ll go and check it out.”
As I walked away she laughed and said, “You’re going to miss this when you retire!”
“I probably will!” I replied.
I walked towards the table. There were about 8 year 9s, most of whom I didn’t recognise. As I got closer I saw there were 2 girls from my current Drama class. Let’s just say that this group of kids weren’t from the demographic of the super-keen studying nerd that our school seems to pump out. These were the more… disengaged kids.
As I got closer, I was seen by the ones facing me and obviously the word, “teacher!” was spread. The kids with their backs to me turned around, scowling.
“Hey Miss!” said a skinny boy. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I just wanted to see how Dwayne was,” I said.
Instantly the atmosphere changed. They all leaped up exitedly.
Dwayne was revealed – a HUGE lump of grey rock. I mean massive.
“Jesus!” I said. “I didn’t expect him to be so big.”
They laughed. and all started talking at once.
“You have to touch him, Miss. Here,” and hands guided me to where I had to make contact.
“You have to worship him Miss. We’re trying to get him to stop them putting a second gymnasium on the oval.”
I pulled a face. “I think that boat has sailed, guys. Aren’t they starting work next week?”
“Yeah. But they’ve agreed to put it so that we can still have this table at sit here at lunch. It’s important we have somewhere to sit, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely.” I smiled at Ricky, then saw Monique. She’d cut my class period 1 because she had an assessment due.
“Monique!” I said. “Where were you period 1?!?”
“I was … um… sick, Miss,” she said. The boys around the table all laughed.
“Sick of Drama, you mean!” I retorted.
They all laughed again as she smiled and said, “NO! I like Drama. It’s just…”
“Get the costume design drawings in to me as soon as you can,” I said. “It’s the last assessment you’ll ever have to do for me.
She nodded as another boy said, “You know she hasn’t done it, Miss, don’t you?” Monique looked embarrassed.
I put on a shocked face.
“What do you mean? Of course she ‘ll do it. You were planning 1920’s style, weren’t you?”
She nodded.
“Cool then.” I smiled and turned to walk away. “See you, everyone. See you, Dwayne!”
“See you Miss!” “BYE!” “See you next week!”
Yes, she’s right, my principal. Things like this are definitely the things I’m going to miss when I retire. In just over 3 week’s time.
That meant that it was exactly ONE MONTH to go before I retire.
It all started to seem a little more real. Four weeks to go.
So, for those of you playing along at home, how am I dealing with life 4 weeks before Freedom?
I’ve started clearing my desk. I’ve had this desk for around 16 years and there’s a lot of stuff on it. I walked across to the library and returned all the textbooks I’ll never need to read again, which was a sweet, sweet feeling. I’m sure that some people like ‘Blueback’ and ‘Once’, but to be honest – for me they’re a bit of a snooze-fest. It’s such a great feeling to know that I’ll never have to read about that stupid Felix and the carrot he found in his soup ever again.
I had a nice chat with Anna in the library while I was there. Years go, I taught her daughter in year 8. “Why do you want to retire? You’re too young!”
I’ve brought home a couple of bags of things that I have a feeling I want to keep, though we all know that I’ll probably file the folders and then throw them out a decade from now. Things like short stories and poems that I’ve used in my classes and I love. But will I really ever read them again??? I guess time will tell.
My desk drawer is jam-packed full of pens, markers and such – even the stapler that my dear friend Scott bequeathed to me when he left the school (and the country) over a decade ago. It’s still a damned good stapler and it’s coming home with me.
Who says that Frogdancer Jones isn’t a sentimental old fool?
Over the years I’ve read lots of blog posts from people who’ve retired who say that they seemed to need to catch up on sleep. People say that it takes anywhere from several months to a couple of years for their bodies to stop needing extra sleep from the years of stress from working.
It seems that I’ve jumped the gun a bit and I’m experiencing this now. On the days that I’m home, I’ll have an hour long nanna nap more often than not. Yesterday I even had a nap before lunch. Crazy!
I have no idea why my body has decided that it needs more rest, but I’ve decided to go with the flow and listen to it. The dogs have worked out the new routine – when they see me go into my room and they hear my empty shoes hit the floor they race in. Poppy jumps onto the bed while I lift Jeffrey (who is big enough to jump on the bed himself but too stupid to realise it) and little Scout onto the foot of the bed. We all have a snooze together.
I’ve booked an appointment with my accountant to talk through how things may change once I hang up the whiteboard markers. When I received the payout from the geoarbitrage exercise, I put some money in a trust. The trust may be kept going or it may need to be wound down.
It’s good to be able to talk through my options with people who don’t freeze at the sight of a page of numbers.
My trip to Antarctica is definitely still a thing. I’ve decided to throw my hat in the ring for a few casual teaching days and/or exam invigilation to help pay for it. Those penguins and icebergs are EXPENSIVE and they certainly won’t pay for themselves. I’ve got to get my CV together and then I’ll traipse around to some of the schools near me to scout out whether or not I’ll want to work there. My current school already knows that I’ll be available. I just have to fill out the paperwork.
The advantage of CRT (Casual Relief Teaching) is that there’s no marking, no meetings and no bringing work home. The schools work you hard during the day to get their money’s worth – no free periods and always a yard duty – but the money’s good and would definitely kick along the holiday fund. It’s dull work though. I remember when I did a year’s CRT work when the boys were all finally at school, before I landed my job in my current school. In the life of a CRT, a boring day is a good day. If you’re really interested in what’s happening in the classroom, the chances are that all hell is breaking loose!
The wonderful thing about all of this is that I have options. If I decide that CRT isn’t for me, I can simply refuse to do it anymore. I’ll still see Antarctica. I just like the idea of challenging myself to earn some of the money required for it. Some habits die hard.
I’m still ticking off the ‘lasts’ at work. On Friday I marked the last Drama assessments I’ll ever see. Next week will see the last grammar tests I’ll ever mark (THANK GOD!) and the last film still paragraphs. Then that’s IT!
Much as I love teaching English, we have the heaviest correction load of any other faculty in a school. Reading 28 essays on the same question about the same novel is something that I’ll definitely not miss. Also grammar. Ugh. I always teach grammar on Mondays – “GRRRRammer Monday! – just to get it out of the way so the rest of the week is devoted to fun things.
My last week of work is full of meetings, planning for next year. Maybe I should bring in huge gin and tonics and sit at the back of the room, shouting out, “You all do whatever you want! I don’t care!!!!”
