I'm Back . . . .

A friend of mine recently started a blog and wanted me to take a look. So I did. Then, I started thinking about my own space here in the Internetsphere, went back and took a look at some of my old posts. Pretty good stuff. So why did I stop? Why not start again? Maybe shorter stuff this time. Those thoughtful essays are time-consuming, and who's reading anyway?

So, here goes.

This is my third year at the rural K-12 school on the FL/AL border. I'm happy, and for the first time I don't feel like I'm in danger of losing my job at any moment. I realize that when you feel secure, you do better work. This stands to reason. I'll try and keep you posted as the school year progresses.

Already things are looking interesting at my little school. Our principal is leaving us to accept a Head Honcho position at the district office. It's not superintendent, but it's another rung up the ladder. A good move professionally for her, a bittersweet change for us. She's probably one of the best bosses I've ever had and a jewel among administrators. We'll miss her fondness for fancy shoes, her kindness and compassion, and her unassailable belief that our little country school is the best in the district. She's the kind of leader that makes you realize what a special place the workplace can be.

There was the obligatory send off after school this week. I didn't want to go, to be honest with you, because I'm a sap and sucker for hardcore emotional scenarios like that. You'd think I'd be inured to crying in public by now, but it still makes me uneasy to draw that kind of attention. The room was taken up by a series of tables groaning with every kind of imaginable food. Teacher chatter everywhere. I sat with friends and thought I would be okay. Then the teacher who had gone into labor and had ridden to the hospital to deliver with our principal alongside told her story and started to weep. And another story. And another. Aw, forget it. I snuffled up my sobs with my paper napkin and made the best of it.

"Are you all right?" someone asked.

"Yes, just tender hearted," I responded.

I've been doing a lot of that lately, so it may be "The Change" coming on. First it was getting bifocals. Then, it was highlighting my hair. When will this series of indignities ever cease? "It don't get any better, sis," my grandfather tells me. He should know. He'll be 85 in December.

Anyway, I didn't speak to my principal because my nose was all red and snotty and I don't think I could have anyway, but I did write her a note in a card expressing my congratulations, and that will do. There was a special "pep rally" for her on Friday, but I hunkered down and hid in my room grading papers. I didn't think I could handle it. Tomorrow, she starts her new job. I wish her the best. She will be missed.

Already the rumors are flying about the new principal who comes to us from the south end of the county. I don't know her, haven't met her, have only seen her once at the fall carnival the other night. I've heard that she's "tough" and "strict." Well, I'm all for that. I put in my time and teach like my hair's on fire (to quote the title of a recent teacher book), so I've nothing to fear. Bring me fierce and serious bosses! I'm ready to go where you lead. I love this job and only want the opportunity to do it better.

The new principal starts tomorrow. One thing I do know is that she, and it is a woman!, has wanted to come to our little school for years. Someone tells me that she lives up that way, that her family farms. All this bodes well with my soul. Having someone who has actively campaigned to be your boss probably means she knows the school and what to expect. She'll fit right in. She'll appreciate the tractor culture, the camouflage fashion, and the fact that kids receive academic credit for learning how to take care of pigs. Our school is a special place. I've probably said that. So, we'll see how it goes, and I'll keep you posted.

For now, welcome back.