BEING TRADED

“All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy, for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must end one life before we can enter into another.”

– Anatole France, French Poet/Journalist/Novelist

Departure is forced, volunteered and unforeseen. Change exhilarates while it alienates. But change isn’t change if you haven’t left part of yourself behind. This week I got laid off from a job. The pink slip I received, which has turned into standard issue over the last four years for California teachers, was followed by certified mail last week. So I went to the post office and signed for my letter which stated that my services are no longer needed…for now. Thankfully I had recently accepted a new position offered as the impending layoff loomed but  there was still a sense of loss. And it’s fresh stuff too.

It’s the feeling you have when you’ve been to school in one neighborhood and suddenly have to move. All of sudden, there’s a vacuum where familiarity once lived. You remember how you used to know where all the homies hung out at lunch, how long it would take for the lunch lady to run out of orange juice and which teachers gave tests on Thursdays because students are absent a lot on Fridays. Before 2004-2005 I had never taught in a secondary classroom. Eight or so years later, handling kids in grades 8-12 is not just second nature, it’s fun and maybe even comfortable. And wouldn’t ya know, a brotha is on the move again.

The craziest piece is that I’m going back to the job I had before I became a teacher. But that point is moot. You can mourn a change and celebrate it at the same time if you invested during your time in said old stompin’ grounds. The classroom has a certain suitability for me. At this juncture, being 36 years and some change old and childless, I have some balance of maturity and childishness. There’s an appreciation for middle-school and high school antics that I probably wouldn’t have if I was steeped in diapers. Who can say? What I do know is that leaving has always been a sad event for me. For me the new place and the old place are mutually exclusive. You don’t have to love one and hate the other. There’s simply a part of you left behind that you wish you could bring with you. But such is the truest journey. Without change I suppose there’s stagnation. I’ve learned to take the days as they come in the current post knowing that “Wheels Up” can occur whenever God says so.