That’s it, that’s all I have left – five days of working at the school. Let me say for the record that the last six weeks have been the exact opposite of fun. The small joys of knowing that there are some bullshit tasks I will never have to do again are more than offset by the sadness of leaving people, both adults and kids, that have been like a family of sorts. The end-of-the-year fun trip, the graduation ceremonies, all were bittersweet.
I learned to carry tissues with me always.
It’s an odd feeling, when fear, sadness and anticipation collide in your belly. I want to stay but I can’t wait to go. I want to take some time to try and remember what my Plan A was but I want to extend the income of Plan B.
Plan B. That’s what the school started out as. I was running my own design business when I answered the ad on one of my Webgrrls mailing lists. It was supposed to be a three month contract to finish out the year after their old computer teacher bailed. Three months morphed into twelve years, Plan B morphed into Plan A.
And now to rediscover Plan A. I doubt I’ll be returning to teaching. While I love it, I think that I love teaching there, at that school, more than I love teaching in general. That’s not to say that I’m not sending out my resume to every private school in town. I just doubt anything will come of it; now is not a good time to be a teacher looking for work.
I am not in any rush. I am paid until the end of August, and can then go on EI (Employment Insurance). Keith & I both have some savings & investments, and neither of us is carrying any debt. I have spoken to employment lawyers who have indicated that there should be some severance funds coming my way, but when that might happen, well that is dependent on another person. Best case scenario is next week, worse case is however long court cases take. Yippee skippee.
So, here I am. Fifty-one years old and back to trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up. And hoping like hell that fifty-one isn’t going to set me back any more than it already is. Ageism…the new ism on the block.
I put out a call on Twitter; my friends’ responses were intriguing. Alas, suggestions like the Doctor’s companion are impossible, and while being a cocktail tester or professional knitter definitely fall within my skill set, I don’t know just how well they pay in the long run.
Right now, the options that are sticking in my head the most are going back to school for a bit and/or going back to running my own business. For what, well that has not made itself known yet. Programming? Design? Web development? Wearable technology? FSM only knows at this point.
Big questions. All I can really think about right now is how I need to just get through the next five days. Report cards still have to be written, rooms cleaned up, and I have to sort through and either pack or throw out all of the stuff I’ve accumulated there over the last decade plus.
I think it’s safe to say that I’ll be indulging in a few wobbly pops on the evening of the fifth day.