FIN.

An Endtroduction.

August is an auspicious time for educators. The scramble to hold onto the barest of remnants of summer, to soak up as much sun as possible, one more pool day, one more trip to the beach, one more hour chillin.

I left that life 3 years ago, and had to become comfortable with October vacations, because the summer was this upside-down world where my team and I were, in fact busiest. This was not simply a re-distribution of creativity, planning, and energy, though, because my body was still on the traditional nine-month farmer’s/school calendar. Every summer since 2022, without fail, my body starts to pump the brakes on work, which was not awesome in this job.

However, summer still marks a closing of a chapter for my team, and the opening of another. Our “year” generally goes August-to-August, with flexibility and breaks at our discretion (PTO-permitting). We spend the summer in a helter-skelter state of planning educator onboarding for the largest school district in the United States Mountain region. It’s like building a small city for a day. My imprecise mathematics tells me that it’s pound-for-pound the most significant event my district puts on, especially when you consider the people power, the leadership engagement, and organization needed to onboard and orient the most important people (teachers and school-based SSPs) to their most important work.

This year, our event was a roaring success. But that’s not the point of this post. As I conclude this chapter, I am also concluding this book. This was, at least as far as I can predict, my last rodeo.

Just after Labor Day, while teachers settle into their rhythm with new students, curriculum, hopes and dreams; while central office middle managers compile after-action reports and assure compliance to strategy, vision, and operations, I will not be among any of them.

After nearly twenty-six years being paid in my district (forty-two if you count my years as a student), I am hanging up my spurs. Technically, I am retiring, closing not only the chapter of my life titled “Senior Manager,” but the book titled “Public School Educator and Leader” with the hope that I get a sequel.

“Retirement” is a tricky term in the United States in 2025. With soaring prices and stagnant wages, it feels like a less-than-auspicious time to step away in this manner. Because of course, I will need to find a way to make money, pay my Williams (I don’t have Bills—they’re full-grown, so you call them by their full name). Increasingly, retirement really is better described as “subsidized resignation.”

There is a grieving process, especially as I watched new educators step into a game that I am subbing out of. The next generation of teachers is like Messi, subbing in for Deco on that Barcelona side. Deco, the playmaker that was in the twilight of his storied career. Brilliant like a sage, body beginning to slow down. Messi, the ballyhooed and diminutive youngster with expectations of the fans, but most importantly, of himself.

As new educators exited our opening session, smiling, anxious, energized, excited, I exited the field slowly, time-wasting, clapping softly for the district and calling that made me possible. I got emotional a couple of times, especially during the words delivered by my colleague and fellow Colorado Teacher of the Year, our Superintendent and Chief of Academics. And as the dust settled, as my team collected leftover swag bags, and clean-up crews broke down big tents and packed folding chairs, it began to sink in.

And that’s ballgame.

I am cheering on the young and new educators who dare to sub into the game at a contentious and terrifying time. New educators who have accepted the joy and the pain of guiding the next generation (and by extension, their communities) through this tumultuous moment. And watching grizzled vets who, through determination, discipline, and passion, lace up their boots for another year where they will continue to work toward a better America, a better world, despite those who oppose them. Who oppose Us.

For nearly thirty years, I was always very intentional, precise, and prepared for my next career move, for my next job. I never changed jobs without a personal connection there. I never gave up a position without having an inside scoop on what the new position would mean. I have a family to support and dreams to fulfill.

But now, as I conclude my fifth decade as an Earthling, I don’t actually have a well-developed plan. I hope to affix “doctor” to the front of my name soon, and I hope that leads to new things. I hope to keep writing for you. But just as all the preparation of summer won’t prevent your back-to-school dreams or nightmares (I have one where I didn’t report to the right school on the first day, and was teaching on FaceTime), all these years, the accomplishments, the recognition, the relationships, and the embodied knowledge that I gained and developed, do not prevent me from feelings of fear and excitement. A dear friend of mine once used the phrase “scare-cited” to describe her feelings and no word has felt more accurate for this moment.

I will never stop laboring for learning, humanization, justice, and liberation. I will never stop trying to become more human. And while things may always change, 2025-26 will be the first year that I will not open a new school year.

Shoutout to those returning to this labor, this love, this purpose for another year. You give me hope.