Happy Birthday to Me

Birthdays mean very little to me. If anything, I’m even more bitter because the day reminds me of time wasted, as if this one day is magical when tomorrow will roll around soon enough and be another day. But today’s birthday is different for many reasons. I’m 55. Though I may not look a day over 54, the number 55 means some things that it didn’t yesterday.
I’m a senior in many categories. I can now live in a Del Webb’s retirement community. The thought of that prospect frightens me a little.
The big deal is that I am now eligible to retire from teaching. Sure, I would get about a third of my current pay and not receive any benefits, but, at the end of this year, I can definitely retire, as many before me have done.
I feel old at school in so many ways, but then I look around. So many of my younger colleagues just want to do the same-old/same-old–trotting out the comfortable rather than the pertinent. We all want the overall good for our students, but then we pigeonhole it down to having them jump through the hoops of some random exercise. Not thinking, not being curious, not figuring it out for themselves, but going to the well again and again so the kiddies can do a trick for them. That gets old.
But there’s the introspection that comes with this day. I’m 55. For any talk I’ve had of leaving North High School, it is now a reality. After this year is over, I can be done with teaching. It’s a liberating feeling knowing that.
So many people have doubted me over the years. “What will you do?” they ask. “Oh, you’re not going to retire,” they say.
I think all the time, and when I think, it’s as a teacher. Most things in my life for the last 30+ years have involved teaching, most people I know are teachers or former students. So many parents and people in the community know me as that tall guy that teaches English at North High because, for the last 18 years, I’ve been that guy.
Many people in my life, past and present, have wished me a happy birthday on Facebook. It means a lot to me because I respect and admire so many of these people. Some are great former students, some are just former students who are great people. Some are colleagues, former colleagues. Some are friends from high school, college, and others I’ve stumbled upon along the way.
I don’t wish to teach them anymore, at least in the traditional sense that my 30-yr-old self would have desired. I wish to have a beer with them, perhaps some good Mexican food. Maybe some of them will fish next to me in a river, or shoot some hoops, perhaps bet (invest?) on the stock market, or listen to some music (even LIVE music), or come over and watch a Lakers game, or go on a road trip (which has already happened).
Yes, I still want to be the ass, the know-it-all, the snob, the gambler–better known as my good qualities. But maybe I just want to listen to Cracker, cause I’m feeling thankful for the small things today. Happy Birthday to Me.