IT'S NEVER EASY

I hate goodbyes. I can't think of anything less pleasant than bidding adieu to students, family, friends, or colleagues. It happens so many times in one's life, you would think it becomes routine. Not the case. In the past month a number of remarkable people exited my everyday world. The placating response often states, "Don't be sad, you'll get together again." Comforting words but reality dictates otherwise. Since I've never been loquacious with parting, face-to-face niceisms (another word invention-- only 3,000 more and I'll catch up with that guy Shakespeare), it's only reasonable to use cyberworld as a farewell podium.

As a teacher, I'm often asked whether I look forward to graduation day. The normal reply would be an affirmative, "Yes," with a sigh, reinforcing that end-of-school exhaustion. But I continue to have a bittersweet attitude about commencement. Part of it is pure selfishness. Having developed a teacher-student bond with a number of graduates, it's difficult to turn them loose, so to speak. It's also the final time I will see many of them, as only a small percentage ever return to campus. I rarely make it through the day, ceremony, and reception without at least one sad thought or several tears. I know, guys aren't supposed to cry, but they forgot to tell those of us who are sentimental Irish.

My family isn't large. I have a brother, sister-in-law, nephew (his bride), niece (her boyfriend), and my sister-in-law's mother. Years ago my brother and I had an argument about something long since forgotten, and we didn't speak for nearly two years. It was stupid, we both realized it, and our stubbornness took over. When we finally came to our senses, we began calling each other every week, which has kept us close. Unfortunately, we only see each other once (at Christmas), possibly twice a year. This past spring he visited for three days to do some observing at my school. I enjoyed the time, as always, but the goodbye at the airport was short and bland. I wish I could write a speech and deliver it eloquently about how much I love and appreciate him, but it's the wrong stage and time.

I'm awful when leaving friends. A few years ago I drove to Spokane to visit several college buds. One of my closest friend's daughter was getting married, offering me a perfect excuse for the journey. I was there for a week, socialized with him and his family, as well as several others living in the area. The wedding culminated my sojourn, and was a joyous gathering, almost a reunion of sorts. But as the day/evening wore on, I dreaded the thought of leaving and the requisite parting platitudes. I hate to admit it, but I finally snuck out the door and sent a letter after I returned home. It was both silly and childish, but I abhorred the task of saying the words without emphasizing my feelings.

I've now been a teacher for 15 years, and enjoy it immensely. I'm fortunate to work at a good school and teach in an English Department with bright, creative, generous colleagues. In recent years, I have sadly watched a number of those colleagues either retire or move on to other avenues. They must all wonder if I have any appreciation for them, because I have rarely said much prior to their departure. It's simply too difficult. About a month ago, two great teachers left for retirement and marriage respectively. The lady who retired taught for well over 30 years and was truly an inspiration. I can't count the times she gave me advice and tips that made my tasks easier. I also can't count the number of students who praised her for helping them understand and improve. She did her job without fanfare, but with remarkable expertise. The other teacher was with us for five years. I've never seen anyone work harder under tougher conditions. She never cheated her students, and most had no idea how many hours she spent trying to attain the right combination. I relate this because I never said a proper goodbye to either of them. I could never verbally express to them my great appreciation and admiration for their unique talents.

I'm not sure this makes much sense, but we all have our own quirks and foibles. The old saying, "Parting is such sweet sorrow," (Shakespeare again?) doesn't quite cover my base. It's much more sorrow than sweet.

I resolve to do better in the future.

MM