"And you shed not a single tear for the things that you didn't need 'cause you knew you were finally free."

I've been using my parents' car to remove my belongings from my office because it's a big ugly station wagon and has lots of space for the things I needed to haul. Plus, the air conditioner works (it is currently broken in our car), which has been a necessity the last few days. Last night, when I finally finished cleaning my nine rooms of work space, dumping all of the trash and loading the last of my things into the back of the wagon, I climbed behind the wheel and immediately looked at the time on the dash clock. It read: 11:59. As I shifted into drive to pull away, it changed to 12:00. Fitting, I think, that I finish the project as the day ends and drive away as a new day begins.

The final toll was 15 sixty gallon trash bags to the dumpster, along with assorted non-baggable items. My personal belongings are 9 large plastic storage bins, a microwave, refrigerator, and a host of smaller items, plus a number of cassette and VHS tapes (4 milk crates) I don't want to take to the storage unit because it isn't climate controlled and the heat will destroy them. I have last night's load in the car still, since I left work so late and the storage center was closed for the night.

“A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them.” – Carl Jung

Before I got in the car, I took my last look around the room. I have spent more time there over the last 8 years than anywhere else, including my house. I know that sounds unbelievable, but since I worked Monday through Friday from 7:45 a.m. until at least 7:00 p.m. most nights, except on Fridays when there was a football game, which meant I got home after midnight, and most Saturdays from 8:00 a.m. until after midnight during October, and many Saturdays I was out of town for the weekend for honor bands and other performances. These hours left me exhausted and barely able to function on Sundays. When I finished my workday I usually went to a restaurant to eat, since I was too tired to cook or clean-up. Home was a place I slept. That's about all I got to do here most of the time. That set of rooms was the place where I passed most of my hours. I had many memories there, both as a student and as a teacher. I walked around looking at the composites from the last 7 years hanging on the wall, trying to memorize the faces and the names. I looked at the plaques of the student awards, again trying to memorize the names. Then I just stood in the doorway and cried. Yes, I cried. I believe in men crying. It's good for the soul sometimes.

"If you've never stared off into the distance, then your life is a shame
And though I'll never forget your face,
sometimes I can't remember my name"
- Counting Crows, Mrs. Potter's Lullaby

When I got home last night (actually this morning), I was too tired to do anything, but too wired to sleep. So I crashed on the couch and stared off into space. When I was settled enough to go to sleep, I went to bed. It was almost 1:30 a.m. by that time and this morning I paid the price for my long hours. I just couldn't get out of bed this morning. The things I desperately needed to do today, will probably be incomplete, but I am okay with that.

That phrase, "I'm okay with that" has actually gotten me through some pretty tough situations over the past two years. It came into my head in January, 2006 one day when I had to make some pretty tough decisions and was thinking about whether or not I could live with the consequences. It quickly became a catchphrase, maybe even a mantra, for me. Sometimes its difficult to determine what we can or cannot live with until we really think about it. This transition is a direct result of some of those difficult choices I made beginning slightly before that phrase entered my vocabulary. In the end, it came down to whether or not I could stop being a band director. Could I change my career, my identity, my life? The answer is... I'm okay with that.

Yesterday, I went to the post office to pick up the certified letter from my principal containing all of his grievances with me. They attempted to deliver it on Thursday, but I was actually at the school cleaning things out, so they had to take it back to the post office and leave me a delivery receipt, which I am supposed to use to pick up the letter. When I arrived, I handed them the receipt and they went to the box to retrieve my letter. It was not there. The postmaster then took over and entered it into the computer. The tracking showed that it was in their system somewhere at that post office, but they could not find it. They searched everywhere while I stood at the counter. It was uncomfortable waiting for this letter, which should be basically the same as the copy I already received, but I want the official copy, since I hope that it contains the photographs he took of my work area and possibly more documentation, since there were some emails he had that he did not allow me to read in our last meeting. I want to wait to write my letter refuting these grievances until I have that official copy. After an hour or so of standing, they informed me that they had lost my letter. The post office had lost a certified letter. They told me they had to call the carrier and determine its whereabouts. This does not make me happy. They took my phone number and promised me a call yesterday, which I did not receive. I will be visiting them again this afternoon since all local post office telephone numbers are now unlisted to increase efficiency.

The photographs that I refer to are photographs showing that I do not maintain the cleanliness of my work areas. They showed things such as: a dry erase board which had not been erased, a stack of sealed crates in a storage room, instruments in storage cubicles designed for the storage of instruments, a cabinet in my office that I had left the door partially ajar and my awards, photos and other memorabilia are displayed on top, a neat stack of coolers outside of my storage room (since there is no space for my coolers in the storage room and we need a number of them for cold drinks for the band after performances), a stack of books and papers on my desk in the music theory and history portion of the classroom, two sorting tables for music in the music library, one of which contained neat stacks of sorted music and one which contained a pile of "oddball" music, and finally, the chorus director's music library, showing stacks of papers on the floor and a stack of binders on the counter. That last one is not my area and I don't want to be misrepresented. I will take responsibility for my mess, but not for someone else's mess. Her classroom and areas spent much of the year being as disorganized as mine (we're both creative types) and at the end of the year, she went to the principal and told him that I authorized my students to wear honor cords which they were not entitled to wear and told her not to tell him. This is an outright lie. Its also on my letter.

“Only by joy and sorrow does a person know anything about themselves and their destiny. They learn what to do and what to avoid.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Well, I'm venting again, which I certainly do not mean to do at all. I want to take the time to write a well reasoned letter in defense of my actions and decisions and to re-write a clear and well reasoned letter of resignation. I want to place them in his hand, thank him for his time, hand him my keys and walk out the door. If our life story is written in separate volumes, I am closing the volume which contains that part of my life story. I will open it when I need to consult the material for stories and wisdom, but I will never write new pages in that book.

When I was working in my office last night, I realized that just being in there makes me feel old. I feel the weight of the years, both past and future. I don't know if that comes with the territory of working with young people, or because of my stage in mid-life, but I never felt it until last year. I am very comfortable with younger people and I relate to them better than I do with people my age. I know that I can be immature for my age. I like music that is more common to those younger than me, I enjoy video games and movie and such that are enjoyed by younger audiences. I think that the older we get, the more baggage we carry with us and the more we project things onto the people around us.

“We must always change, renew, rejuvenate ourselves; otherwise we harden.” – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Often, when I have come up with an idea, or when I do something, many people my age are skeptical and suspicious of my motives. Once I devised a plan to expand my booster organization to encompass the middle school program as well as mine. The benefits would include more funding for the middle school program and a larger talent and volunteer pool for both groups. I would also gain the advantage of getting to know the younger parents and students for a longer period of time and increase retention of students through the high school years. I sold my boosters on the idea and my booster president and I met with the middle school director, who was immediately suspicious and mistrusting. She was convinced I would be stealing her money. She told me, "Nobody would do anything like this unless they were getting something out of it, so what are you really doing this for?" She killed the idea. I also devised a plan to bring a student leadership, drum line and color guard camp to the area, through the local university school of music a few years ago. My staff and I drew up a detailed proposal and presented it to the university director of bands. He turned us down and then started our program without our involvement, through contracting it to a national company.

When I began working with my most troubled students, most people never could accept that it was because I cared about them and because of my brother's battles with mental illness and Cory's suicide that I just genuinely wanted to help them. They always thought it was so that I could take advantage of them in some way. Many people assume that I'm some kind of sexual pervert because I care about teenagers with mental health issues. Others resent that I spend more time working with them and others that are challenged and not equal time with every student. There is nothing more unfair than expending equal resources on unequal people.

"To let people begin again. It's beautiful. You look at a baby,and it's so pure and so free and so clean. And adults are, like, this mess of sadness and phobias." - Mary, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Young people are more simple and joyful than most older people I know. Most of my friends that are my age are people who act younger. They find the joy in life. They play video games or role-playing games, they do crazy things like "tazer tag" (try it sometime). They aren't afraid to laugh loudly and heartily in public. I think that many people forget how to REALLY laugh. Its sad. Many teachers will not laugh in front of students and many adults will not laugh in public. I don't mean a polite little chuckle, I mean a real, unguarded laugh. We need to rediscover that joy in everyday life.

"You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd
We ain't too pretty we ain't too proud
We might be laughing a bit too loud
But that never hurt no one."
- Billy Joel, Only the Good Die Young

Once things settle down a bit for me, I'm going to tackle the issue of friendships. Loz got me thinking about it, so I plan on doing some writing about friends and friendships sometime in the next week or so. If you are interested, I highly recommend Dan at Faith Dance, who tackles the issue of friendships, especially between people of different genders, from a Christian perspective, though sometimes non-traditional, and with some extremely innovative thoughts and ideas.

In the meantime, I am trying to pry my fingers from that door frame and trust my parachute. In my 15 bags of trash were many things I considered indispensible during my career, but they will not be needed anymore. I have freed myself from much baggage already and when I let go and jump, I will float, totally free. My title quote today was from Death Cab for Cutie, so I will close with a pair of quotes from the same song:

"Burn it down till the embers smoke on the ground
And start new when your heart is an empty room
With walls of the deepest blue

And all you see
Is where else you could be
When you're at home
Out on the street
Are so many possibilities"
- Death Cab for Cutie, Your Heart Is An Empty Room