16 Days to Retire? by Michael Flanagan

Photo by Christine Vaccaro

I can retire in 16 days. 

I have anticipated being able to say that for decades. To have the knowledge that if things got really bad for me, I could put in my papers and walk away. 

If things got bad.

It is funny to say that in the middle of this recent surge in a years-long pandemic. With more and more cases happening every day in our schools. Teachers and students you speak to, either having just gotten over Covid, or suddenly absent the next day. Seeing the names on the quarantine list increase exponentially. 

IF things got bad? 

I know. If things aren't bad now, I would hate to see them when they are. 

Besides Covid, there is the enormous stress of just teaching this year. The masks, the increased protocols, the burnout. The students who are suffering PTSD from the pandemic, and not quite making the re-adjustment back to the socialization of the school setting. The general feeling that the world is crumbling beneath our feet, but we need to keep walking pretending that it is not. 

Running to stand still. 

The hallways are crowded, the classrooms are cold from the open windows, the noses are peeping up over the masks, and every cough sounds like the click of someone stepping on a landmine. 

Yet we are still submitting grades, preparing for midterm exams, and waiting for a class observation from our administrators. 

What was that cliche of the band continuing to play while the Titanic sank? Any requests? 

On paper, you would think that this year should be easier than last year’s hybrid fiasco. At least all of the kids are in class everyday. No more A-Day, B-Day, Full remote, live stream etc. Just regular classes. 

No, this year is anything but regular. 

I try to articulate why it is so hard. Like I am carrying a hundred pound pack on my back everyday. Or how it feels like I am standing on the ledge of a five story building in the wind, and hoping to just get blown to the roof side, and only break my leg. 

But I am usually preaching to the choir that is my fellow educators. It is hard to “out exhaust” people who you know are working and struggling even harder than you are. 

Misery loves company, and this place is really crowded. 

We are trying. Still pushing for vaccinations, masks, and testing of all students and staff. Advising people to stay home if they are sick. Increasing social emotional awareness. Canceling the holiday parties to help stop the spread. But I still have these stress headaches, and get tired from just lying on the couch. 

Is this the new normal? Feels like it.

But—and I know this may sound incredibly hypocritical—but I still love teaching. I have not missed a day of work in five years. I am still trying to be better at my job. I admire my colleagues for their skill and dedication. I respect my administrators for keeping the school running, even though I know what they are going through. 

And I want to be there everyday for the kids. They need to see their teachers, and feel like we are a safe harbor in a hurricane. They are victims, exhibiting signs of trauma, and we are their salve.

Educators are professionals. We want to be paid for our work. We need our jobs. But, beneath that, there is our love for teaching. Yesterday, I was discussing with my classes the recent Tik Tok threats of school shooting on December 17th, and lock down drills etc. With all honesty, I told my kids that I would do everything to make sure that no one got in this classroom in an emergency. And I meant it. That is not about paychecks. That is love. So, if fear of bullets won't stop us from teaching, neither will Covid. 

So, I CAN retire in 16 days. But, I don’t think I will. Not yet anyway. I am not going out like that. One day at a time people. See you in June.