[Critique Group 2] submission for our Group 2 critique session, May 26

[Alice Massa]

Dear Group 2 writer friends,

In honor of Brad’s May 4 retirement, I will share with you all the 
following retirement poem which I first posted onto my WORDWALK blog on 
March 2, 2013--the year in which I initiated my blog.The following 
poem--pasted and attached--is my submission for our May 26 critique 
session, when we will meet at two o’clock (Central Time).

Best wishes to all--Alice

* * *

*Learning to Retire from Teaching*

*(Touches of Humor Have Been Assigned)*

poem by Alice Jane-Marie Massa

I am learning

to retire from teaching.

I must confess

that, to me, retirement

is a process:

retirement does not really happen

on one day, at one hour, or in one minute.

All that led to this career of years of teaching

must be unwound.

I have found

that I miss the students, the hours, the marking of time

by semesters, classes, and school years.

Now I am learning to mark time by retirement years:

first year, second year, ...

on this new stage that too many people fear.

Do you think I am learning not to lead?

Am I learning to step aside, to sit back, to avoid speaking up?

Down the road, this will all be easier.Right?

I am left with all these memories

of leading,

of liking to lead.

Didn’t I even lead in ballroom dancing in sixth grade?

Now, I have to learn this retirement dance or fade.

Perhaps, what I need is a Flamenco outfit

(with lots of ruffles and beading)

so that I can fit better into this retirement mold

of not leading.

Leader Dog Zoe reminded me

that I have been successfully and properly

following her, Heather, and Keller

for 23 years—46 semesters plus 22 summers.

“That’s a lot of practice

at letting us be in the lead,” Zoe said.

Of course, she is right; and I pat her pretty head.

Nevertheless, I guess, she usually knows my stress.

One stumbling block of this learning process

is that I was born a teacher.

When I arrived in this world,

Doctor Loving quipped,

“One more—just like the other.”

Did he prophetically know that I was

one more teacher—just like my older sister?

My parents—a postmaster and a firefighter—

gave birth to two teachers.

My father nailed a chalkboard

to the knotty-pine wall

where my sister taught me,

and I taught my dolls and dogs.

Our models were those magnificent teachers

at Jacksonville Grade School,

but they never taught us how to retire.

Yes, I have always been a teacher—

in and out of the classroom,

behind or away from my beloved podium.

Whatever I know or have learned,

I am truly compelled to share.

So, when I learn how to retire from teaching, I declare:

I will teach you how to retire—without a care.

* * *

First posted on:March 2, 2013, Saturday

For Group 2 critique session:May 11, 2022, Wednesday


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