So, when does it end?

I check up on the papers back in Jersey and Philly pretty much daily. Usually, I’m checking to see news on the Eagles, Flyers, or Phillies.

And I check up on my old school/job in the papers as well. Few if any from the old place return my correspondence anymore, which I will admit is tremendously disappointing personally. Regrettably though, it is not totally unexpected. Schools, both as a student, and as an employee were always places steeped in the “who’s here right now” mentality. It has occurred with virtually every school I have left, and every relationship I built there. Outta sight, outta mind one might say, and I suppose there is some grain of truth there. Schools tend to be the kind of places that are driven by the people who show up and give a damn. You leave-you’re old news.

“So it goes,” as Kurt would say.

I’ve enjoyed reading about how my old teams did this season, and was really pleased to see them do well. It was a year that athletically I think the school should be proud of, and one that I would have had a lot of fun being a part of. The kids and the coaches came off great in the local papers, and they brought a lot of distinction to the school and the community. The last few weeks, were I still there, would have been filled with more banquets and mediocre pasta than I could stomach. But it was always fun. I always enjoyed the moments where the kids and their parents got to feel special. There’s nothing like an awards or commencement ceremony to remind one that these kids do go forth, and they move on and grow. To this day, among the best moments I recall in each school I’ve had the honor to work in, is walking into graduation in my robe and hood. Still have my hood. I’d like to wear it somewhere, to be honest. I miss that I think-being part of an academic program. I miss being engaged in that debate-how best to teach and engage kids.

But, much like that pal you made at summer camp, and that girl you met at the concession stand during CYO basketball in Junior High, it seems that with this school year at my old place ended, so might my claim on it. There are still a lot of people I respect and care for there-much like at every other place that I’ve worked. But over time, when you’re not there, you don’t much matter. I think that’s really kind of the way of things, but I wonder if that’s a school thing, or really just a work thing. I wouldn’t know really, as outside the restaurant industry, there’s no structure I know as well as a school.

Schools are far more freaking political than they should be. It’s a damn shame that adults cannot simply get together to focus on the educational and developmental needs of children. Maybe they can, but I’ve not had the luxury of working in a school that could look past it’s own ass to figure out that that is the only thing that matters. People take school seriously, as they should, but schools are sometimes so all encompassing that they dominate your time and energy like a family or a serious illness.

I mean that both positively and negatively. As a student, a young person-up to high school, education is your job-it’s your career that leads to your career. But it’s not a great practice for life, as unless you spend the rest of your life in a school, I’m not sure that style of structure lends itself to living in the real world.

Now that I’m outside of it, there’s a whole world that is not working from 7-2:30 with 30 minutes for lunch, five days a week, 180 days a year. I mention this not as a slam to the educational community, but more out of embarrassment for the level at which it seems I got institutionalized by the work. As I wrote about in this space recently, I’ve had trouble connecting with that sense of time that exists outside the school world. Going to the library at 10am has taken some getting used to, but that’s when story time is, so we’ve adjusted.

So, while there are people and students at the old place that I care about and wish well, there’s no pulse to the relationship, and little to no contact anymore. While I have found this disappointing, I am not as hurt as I am regrettably unsurprised by the manner in which I stopped mattering almost immediately. So, when do I stop checking the papers? When does a life one is no longer living and/or welcome in, truly end?

I wonder if this question, that I alone may be the only one curious about, may boil down to one larger question: How does one measure the impact of a life? Or a career? Is it measured by lives touched? Is it measured by money made or projects completed? Lives saved? Students taught? Customers served? Miles traveled? Paintings sold? Enemies killed? Medals won? Hall of fames inducted in? Honorary degrees earned? Children sired? Songs written? Points scored? Converts baptized? Pages written?

I honestly don’t know. This transition to life here in Hawaii has been both more complicated, and less so than I had anticipated. I think there are little footprints of our lives back in Jersey that pop up now and then, and make it harder sometimes to truly lay claim to the fact that we, as a family, took a huge step together, and are still learning how we all fit in here. The vast majority of people in both my personal and professional life thought I was out of my mind to even entertain this venture. I might have been. But we have only been on Oahu six months and 10 days. Our whole lives have been changed. And much of our old life in Jersey has fallen away as though it were the single piece of cake left on the plate that no one cared to eat, or to be seen eating.

Not all of that life, but most of it. So when does it end? When do I stop checking the papers on how the old school is doing? When do I stop reaching out to people who clearly no longer have the inclination to maintain contact? When do the local news of the old town no longer resonate?
And beyond the school life, when does one stop expecting a reconciliation and rehabilitation of a relationship that isn’t likely to occur?

I guess it ends when I decide it ends, and I think that’s now, for me, in a lot of ways.

So it goes, indeed.