My Retirement Speech

photoI have no inten­tion of giv­ing one, but I did want to write one…

Wow. Thir­ty-three years. My plan was to teach for twen­ty and then become a full-time writer. But our plans are not always God’s plans. When I think of the things that have hap­pened, the ways that I’ve changed, and, most of all, the peo­ple I’ve met in the thir­teen years since our plans diverged, I accede to His wis­dom. Being a teacher has been my calling.
I decid­ed to become a teacher when I was 29 years old. Karen was preg­nant with our first child (my dar­ling Bethany), and I was work­ing as a hos­pi­tal store­room clerk. The real­iza­tion came to me that I was about to become a fam­i­ly man and would need to keep work­ing for most of the rest of my life—and I knew I could do some­thing more mean­ing­ful than deliv­er­ing med­ical sup­plies to dif­fer­ent floors of a hos­pi­tal. What did I want to do? Teach and write.
I got my first job at Ste. Genevieve High School when I was 31. I start­ed out as a moron (see “key inci­dent” in Chap. 18), but in three years time—with the help of some very kind people—I had found my foot­ing in the class­room. I knew who I was and that kids would respond to me. They even threw a par­ty for me when we left Ste. Gen.
There fol­lowed two dark years at Jud­son High School in Con­verse, Texas. Jud­son was five times the size of my pre­vi­ous high school, and the only peo­ple I could con­nect with were my stu­dents. After two years they decid­ed not to rehire me (essen­tial­ly, I got fired!), which I believe had more to do with a per­son­al­i­ty con­flict with a vet­er­an teacher than with my pro­fes­sion­al com­pe­ten­cy. But, no regrets. I end­ed up at Clemens, and I got a book out of the expe­ri­ence. (Read my side of the sto­ry in The Ninth Issue—soon to be avail­able on my website.)
Fol­lowed by 28 years at Samuel Clemens High School. I am not a school spir­it “rah rah” type per­son, but my love and respect for this school and this dis­trict run deep. The dis­trict has kept my wife and I gain­ful­ly employed for over fifty com­bined years at a respectable salary, and it has pro­vid­ed all three of my chil­dren with a strong edu­ca­tion­al foun­da­tion. As for the high school—the rea­son I stayed so long is because I nev­er saw anoth­er school that looked like a bet­ter place to teach. I have been inspired, reward­ed, and ful­filled, and that boils down to one factor—as it always does in teach­ing: the kids.
I always told them that I chose Eng­lish because it real­ly involves learn­ing about life. My employ­ers gave me the Cre­ative Writ­ing pro­gram the day I start­ed at Clemens, and it remains the most stim­u­lat­ing and fun class that I teach. I have learned that regard­less of what you teach, if you can strike that cre­ative chord with­in a kid, if you can get it to thrum, you will be blown away by the results. One of my favorite things about my web­site is that it con­tains a Stu­dent Writ­ing of the Week, a Pho­to of the Week, and a Video of the Week. I am the care­tak­er who gets to sift through 33 years of thrumming.
I have enough self-esteem to believe that I have done my job well, that I have touched the lives of many of the souls who have passed through my class­room. What an hon­or and a priv­i­lege! I think of the line from Gary Coop­er as Lou Gehrig in The Pride of the Yan­kees – “Today I con­sid­er myself the luck­i­est man on earth…” (Of course, he was dying, which gave it more gravitas.)
But my inten­tion for this book was that it would be help­ful to those who do what I did. It seems so arro­gant to advise—but I have come away with a few opin­ions on how to nav­i­gate the mine­field that comes with tak­ing pos­ses­sion of a class­room. You have to learn to pri­or­i­tize. One of the pit­falls of teach­ing is that you can always do more. You are bom­bard­ed with tasks from your admin­is­tra­tion, your depart­ment, your extra-cur­ric­u­lar respon­si­bil­i­ties, your stu­dents and even their par­ents. My wife was dri­ven to a four year sab­bat­i­cal after 15 years of teach­ing because she always did more. Learn to do what mat­ters and fake the bullshit.
Ear­ly in my career a wise teacher told me “It’s bet­ter to ask for for­give­ness than per­mis­sion.” I’ve lived by that rule, and it got me the thick­est file in Cen­tral Office and many unfor­get­table and mean­ing­ful class­room expe­ri­ences. A good rule of thumb for eval­u­at­ing a course of action before you leap in is to ask your­self if what you intend to do will real­ly be ben­e­fi­cial for the kid or kids involved. You can’t go wrong if you put the kids first.
I’ve got tons of oth­er advice if any­one is still lis­ten­ing. Stay healthy because the one thing that every good teacher needs is ener­gy. Become a good listener—not one of my best traits, but I have noticed that kids will talk if they know you’re lis­ten­ing. And that’s when you’re most like­ly to make a real dif­fer­ence. Stay in the moment, because that’s where the laugh­ter and the joy and the empa­thy reside, and those are the things that make your job fun. Final­ly, don’t sweat the small stuff. It is always going to be there. Miss that duty if you need to. Fake that les­son plan. Take that men­tal health day. You are a dis­tance run­ner, not a sprinter.
Teach­ers and writ­ers share a com­mon job hazard—they most­ly don’t get to see the effect of their work. The lessons you impart are plant­ed inter­nal­ly. The kid leav­ing the class­room looks the same as the kid who came in. It is usu­al­ly a mat­ter of faith that some­thing pos­i­tive hap­pened. Have faith.
Last but cer­tain­ly not least, I want to thank the lord Jesus Christ for His watch­ful­ness over my entire career. I don’t know how so many teach­ers do it with­out Him. I couldn’t have.

***Reminder– This blog entry is actu­al­ly the 34th and final essay from my new ebook, Is This For a Grade:  Re-taught and Re-test­ed.  If you are inter­est­ed in read­ing more, the ebook is avail­able on my website.

Comments

  • Mr. Malm­gren’s,
    I was in your class at Ste. Genevieve High. I was tex­ting Kathy Naeger today dis­cussing all the past peo­ple who made an impact in my life. You were one of them. I enjoyed you as a teacher, encour­ager and per­son. I still have the book you encour­aged me to read “Count of Monte Chris­to”. God did bless you with the gift to teach. Bless­ings to you and your family!
    Pamela (Williams) Lopez
    Class of 1983

    Pamela (Williams) Lopez11 February, 2016
  • Love this :)
    So very glad we were at Jud­son the same two years.
    As always, God knew what He was doing.
    Hap­py retire­ment, Mr. M ~

    Melanie Yeager25 June, 2014
    • Thanks, Melanie. You remain one of my favorite mem­o­ries of Judson.if you have a chance, read the e‑book. I know you’ll be famil­iar with some aspects.

      Dallin Malmgren26 June, 2014
  • Thanks for the good read. Wished my wife could have learned from your wife because same thing hap­pened to her. Great sto­ries that car­ry some meaning.

    Ter­ry Hoover

    Terry Hoover24 June, 2014
    • Thanks, Ter­ry. My wife seems to be enjoy­ing retire­ment as much as me. Let me know if you come to SA and want to golf!

      Dallin Malmgren26 June, 2014
  • It’s no won­der why you were my favorite teacher.….

    Annette Wehner23 June, 2014
  • Where is the sar­casm that will come in my retire­ment speech?

    g parker20 June, 2014
    • Guess I’m feel­ing more sen­ti­men­tal than sar­cas­tic these days, Greg–life is good!

      Dallin Malmgren26 June, 2014
  • Learn to do what mat­ters and fake the bullshit.

    This sen­tence is one I live by in the world of teach­ing. When the lat­ter becomes more impor­tant to the ones above, in the words of Lebron James, “It’s time to take my tal­ents to South Beach”.

    John Ince19 June, 2014
  • Sounds like teach­ing taught you to live. My favorite part is about your cen­tral office file!

    Scott C18 June, 2014
    • Thanks for read­ing, Scott. I kind of learned how to stay out of trou­ble toward the end.

      Dallin Malmgren19 June, 2014
  • Can I share this on Facebook?

    Cari weems18 June, 2014
  • Thank you for shar­ing this — your words are so true “It is bet­ter to ask for for­give­ness than per­mis­sion” they must have been wise teacher — it is also a rule I also lived by for many years — most­ly because it was the right thing to do. Thanks Again

    Lynne Baumeister18 June, 2014
    • Thanks for read­ing, Lynne. Yeah, I usu­al­ly fol­lowed my heart when it came to grey area s.

      Dallin Malmgren19 June, 2014

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