Two Weeks Notice

As I reclined on my mat in the dark yoga studio the other night, I realized that in two weeks, school would be back in session. How did that happen?

This mid August epiphany is one that I’ve experienced dozens upon dozens of times, usually with the same takeaway – damn, summers certainly go by fast.

After class ended, I attempted some mental math. How many years of my life has Labor Day punctuated summer’s end with a period? After doing some quick figuring (my first 4 years of life + 3 the years after HS and before I started community college + the 2 years after my BA, but before graduate school), I realized that for approximately 50 of my years, I have gone Back to School in early September.

This year, however, it’s going to be different.

It’s my last post holiday weekend return to school.

Retirement is getting close.

The power of Labor Day, and its warning that it’s time to get back to work, has almost always communicated to me that it’s the end of summer. Which is kind of funny, because my birthday falls a couple of weeks later on what is literally the last day of summer.

As I approach the beginning of my final semester, I feel a sense of completion. Spending more than half of my life in a profession that has inspired, challenged and sometimes frustrated me, is an accomplishment of which I am proud. It hasn’t always been easy, particularly in these days of book banning and seemingly nonstop standardization of curriculum and testing.

Having one’s competence and motivation being questioned and measured does little to stimulate creativity, particularly when the one wielding the yardstick has little understanding of what the position actually entails.

I’m not going to miss that even a little bit.

Whatever I choose to do next will have a new rhythm, one that I can set for myself, one that does not include driving back from the beach to get back to work.

This will be my last Labor Day.