They say cleanliness is next to godliness, but I have never believed that statement. My house looks lived in. There are piles of clutter, blankets of dust, and fur tumbleweeds. All those things make my house a home, at least that is what I tell myself. The closets are burgeoning with all the clutter piles I stuff in them. There comes a time when I fear the whole house will explode if I squeeze one more item behind the doors. That time has come in my teaching closet.

I have faced down the closet, which has been mocking me for the past year or two. I pulled out every single item, until it was totally empty. Vacant shelves make me giddy. So much potential! But once the closet was bare, I turned around. Not one place to step in the entire bedroom. The surfaces are all covered. The floor as well. It looks like the closet actually exploded all over the room. I made myself a sitting place on the bed to start going through the I-might-need-to-keep-it pile. I made sure the sitting place was close to the throw-it-away pile, the take-it-to-thrift pile, and the give-to-a-new-teacher pile. This is going to be a work in progress for some time to come!

When I left the classroom to open my tutoring business, I wasn’t sure what I would need, so I brought everything. Well, that’s not exactly true, I brought a closet full. The rest was donated to eager-but-broke new teachers. Fortunately for them, teachers are known to be hoarders. It comes from the poverty mindset that we might not have enough resources for the next group of students. In an educational career, buying your own resources is required if you want even a minimal library to pull from. They don’t really talk about that in teacher-prep school, so newbies find themselves with a shiny new classroom and nothing to put in it. That’s where the veteran teachers come in to share the wealth of materials they have collected.

In fact, among the piles littered on my floor are resources with names of teachers from my past. Mentor teachers. Some of them no longer with us. Their names in permanent marker on these books are like headstones, a reminder of those who went before me. Some of these resource books have three or more names crossed out before my own was added to the bottom of the list. Like I said, teachers are hoarders who never throw anything out.

What I found, as I sorted through all the items, is a treasure trove of educational materials. The history of education in Georgia is laid out before me, like opening a time capsule. Three different sets of standards for the three different grade levels I taught. I lost count of the number of tests represented. ITBS, CRCT, Milestones…you name it, I have a review book for it. I have a math book from way back when we used to have textbooks. I have also have some antique reading textbooks with a pig dressed like chicken on the cover, the teacher manual, and workbooks to go with it. I have gobs of professional learning notebooks to unpack the standards, to teach guided reading, to build character, to differentiate instruction…every new idea to come down during my career is now covered with dust.  

Then there are notebooks full of my own projects, the nature trail, the RTI model, democratic learning projects, a poetry reading, all the readers theaters my students wrote, the learning contracts made for each student. My master’s thesis. My instructional coach endorsement project. Wow! So much work in this pile. So many heartfelt hours spent in the pursuit of reaching students. From my spot on the bed, I toss most of it into the throw-it-away pile. All gone. All over. No need to keep any of it. The affected kids are adults now, lessons long forgotten in the hustle and bustle of their lives. The nature trail mowed down for the sake of progress. No reminders except these hundreds of files of plans and lessons.

My husband keeps watch over me by peeking in periodically. He asks if I am okay. If this is hard and emotional. I tell him no, it is not like I expected at all. Actually, it feels like freedom. Like every toss into the throw-it-away pile is a weight lifted off of my shoulders. It feels like the turning of a page. Back when I brought all this stuff home, teaching was my life. It encompassed much of my identity because there was no time to do anything else. Good teachers know that to be a good teacher means sacrificing other interests. But for me, teaching has always been so fun and wonderful, whatever else I sacrificed was worth it. It was my creative outlet. What I did in a classroom mattered. It made a difference in the lives of children. What could be more important than that?

But now, I have other interests, so looking over this graveyard of artifacts doesn’t break my heart any longer. It doesn’t have the same hold on me it once did when it was my everything. It’s just paper. Reams of it, that no longer matter. When I left the classroom years ago, it felt as if I lost my arms. My heart was broken. I was crushed and without a place to pour my creative energy. There were so many tears, accompanied by a feeling that I was lost and wandering in the dark.

Tutoring has helped my teacher heart to heal. It has freed me to simply do what I know to do…teach. No pressure. No notebooks and notebooks of expectations. Just do what I love to do. It has brought the fun back to seeing the lightbulb moments when a child gets a concept. Seeing their confidence soar is why I keep on going back. One-on-one, I can see progress up close. The glorious basics of teaching and learning have breathed life into my soul and will continue to do so as long as I can.

All these piles upon the floor represent my career. I am grateful for it. Years and years of pouring myself out. I love teaching. I love tutoring. In whatever form it takes, I will always be a teacher. No one can take that away from me. But a teacher is not all that I am. I am also a writer, and now a potter. A daughter who is currently needed.  A mother and soon to be a grandmother. A wife and a caregiver on more than one front. Each of these roles is important and it is time for them to have some of my attention.

As I work for the third day, the piles are growing. The largest one is a mountain of trash and I am okay with that. Five large trash bags so far. I no longer feel the need to hold onto everything “in case I need it” for future years. I don’t have to worry about that anymore because I am retiring from education September 1^st. My time is served. My mark made. I will keep only what I need for tutoring, everything else will go and I will turn the page. A new chapter….stay tuned…