Some of my younger colleagues
ask me, “What’s my secret?
How have I lasted thirty-five years?”
Remember each day is a new day— a fresh start.
I only worry about what I can control.
Stay away from “drama”
and replace false conclusions with facts.
I don’t work in the summer.
I rest, decompress,
charge my batteries.
I move all trash cans and Kleenex boxes
away from my desk, so students
aren’t bombarding me with germs.
Never drink from a water fountain
or coffee from the staff room.
Always bring bottled water,
a thermos of espresso,
and lunch from home.
Buy hand sanitizer,
the kind they have in hospitals.
Use it after grading papers
or touching door knobs.
Be gracious and accept cookies and candy
from students, but dispose of it
when no one is around.
Learn to say, “No,”
to more than one committee assignment,
and afterschool activity.
It’s a matter of perspective.
Things that used to bother me,
don’t anymore.
Having survived a quadruple bypass,
even if I have a terrible day,
I am grateful to be alive.
Students I had twenty years ago
have become adults, and now
I teach their children. It’s wonderful
to see how they have succeeded,
and some ask me
to please not hold it
against their child
for the way they acted in class.
Establish a reputation for fairness
and compassion, and someday maybe
you will receive a framed wooden plaque
painted by a student
that says your name, then
“The Man, the Myth, the Legend.”
