Teaching: It's Been a Good Run

Something I had been contemplating for four months came to fruition three weeks ago; I submitted my retirement letter to the Osceola School District. I knew I could have waited a few more months, but symmetry and history were on my side. So, early on Monday, January 16th, I pressed send on a brief email:

“Good morning and happy Martin Luther King, Jr. Day! When I was young, MLK was one of my personal heroes. His words, his actions, and his courage were an inspiration to a rural white kid growing up in northern Minnesota. My admiration of his heroic life has only grown since.”

“Therefore, it is serendipitous that today I announce my retirement—effective at the end of the 2022-23 school year—from Osceola School District. I have had a good long run at the middle school for two essential reasons: the friendship and collegiality of the people I have worked with at OMS since the fall of 1997. They have made all the difference.” 

Retirement from teaching wasn’t the plan six months ago. In fact, I was so prepared to log another five years in the classroom, that when it came time last fall to reset my school computer password, I chose Retire2027$. But then an uncomfortable feeling began to creep in—I started to perceive the next five years more like a prison term, rather than time spent with peers educating kids. Other than felons, no one should wish their time away, even teachers. The only time we do that is in January (the worst month in education) and early May.

Teaching is a good gig. No one should feel sorry for teachers. We knew what we were getting ourselves into when we started. And if we didn’t, we quickly found out. Yes, there is a lot to complain about (which I do), and while most of those complaints are valid, the public has never wanted to listen to our whining. And why should they? They have their own complaints about their chosen profession or vocation, which are just as real. Besides, someone always has it worse—just ask any group of starving kids in Africa, they’ll tell you (if they have the strength).

A quarter century is a long time to do anything, let alone teach. In the final analysis, however, I realize it has been the one thing (other than fatherhood) that I have continuously committed myself to. That’s a good feeling, not to mention the fact that I’m still having more good days than bad, more rewarding class periods than frustrating ones. And still accumulating true stories like the following, which happened approximately a dozen years ago:

A morning class period had just ended. A student, we'll call him Tyler, approached me with a piece of paper in his hand, an assignment he hadn't turned in the day before. 

"Um, Mr. Bergman," Tyler began tentatively. "Can I explain why this (he waves his paper) is late."

Always happy to take any completed assignment, late or not, off a student's hands, I put on my most approachable face and replied, "Sure, Tyler."

"You see," he began, "I just finished it the other night when my dog grabbed it." 

I know what you're thinking, this is the classic cliche come true, a student produces the remnants of an assignment that his dog actually ate. Sort of—well, not really. 

"I just wanted to show you, so you'd understand why it was late. It needed to dry."

"Dry?" I said, confused. Tyler hands me the paper, which I now notice is inside one of those transparent sleeves that are used to preserve a paper's physical integrity. 

"Well, yeah," Tyler replied as if the reason for the paper's protection was obvious. "My dog peed on it."

I turned the paper over and, sure enough, the flip side was stained yellow. "That's okay, Tyler," I said mischievously. "Look on the bright side, at least it's not brown."

Priceless stories every teacher has. Dammit, I’d have a bookful, if I had only written them down as they happened. In the meantime, I better change my password.