It feels so strange that the new school year has begun and I'm not part of the action back at Tech. For twenty years I saw one after another of my colleagues leave, most to retirement, a few, alas, to death, and a lucky few to new careers. It is always bittersweet to stand, handkerchief in hand, waving to the metaphorical ocean liner as it yaws seaward, an old friend on deck shrinking to nothingness. And as we turn from the shore, back to our quotidian routine, a melancholy descends like a fog. I usually fight this sadness by concluding, with practiced shadenfraude that the ship in question is the Titanic, but it's always sad to be left behind.
The most painful of these send-offs was with Bonamo. His departure was so sudden and unexpected, unlike the many sad though organic retirements I've endured. He was the future of the school, no doubt about that. Brilliant, hard-working, honest, kind, tough, a man who loves life and brings his energy to everything and everyone he touches. What a loss for us as a school, and for me personally. We had become such good friends. I knew I could trust him. I knew I could work with him. The future was very bright.
Then, in May I came in to his office and the teachers were all aflutter about an inspection the superintendant from Queens was going to visit upon us. I said nothing, but waited until everyone but Bonamo had left the room. He peered at me guiltily, fully anticipating the interrogation which was to ensue, an onslaught that he well knew he was ill prepared to withstand.
"What's the story, Bonamo?," I asked. He hemmed and hawwed and looked at his shoes, and finally said that he would prefer not to say. I narrowed my eyes and lowered my voice, and let him have it with both barrels. "Oh, you'd rather not say, huh? Now you listen to me, you fat f***, we can do this one of two ways. Either you tell me right now why that big mucky-muck is coming, after which you and I will concoct some cock and bull story that I will help you feed to the staff, thereby keeping your secret intact with my help, .... or you can continue to lie, in which case I will go to every person in the school and tell them that there's a big secret afoot and Bonamo's up to no good and we all have to figure out what it is. So, big-boy, what's it going to be?"
He stared at me for a long time, then he sighed and said simply, "I'm going to be the Principal of Townsend Harris High School in Queens."
I walked back to my room, closed the door, sat down at my desk, and wept. What a loss.
Anyway, this year was my turn.
Mr. Bennett, that was a touching and deep reflection on loss. Your last few lines touched me that I almost wept myself. As you said about Mr. Bonamo, "What a loss," the same could be said for you and more. As I speak to the students still at the school, I find it very strange and sobering that you are no longer teaching there and that none of them have you. As I hear the new history teachers at the school, I wonder who actually occupies your room now, although honestly it doesn't matter because in my mind, no one can ever occupy that classroom besides you.
ReplyDeleteAlso, as an aside, you came up in one of my classes today, when we were discussing what constitutes a great teacher (we were reading Socrates' Apology) and of course the style of your "teaching" although you may not call it that came up and it gave me a chance to reflect back on all the wonderful times in your class.
I hope leaving isn't too saddening for you and that like Mr. Bonamo, you have moved onto another rewarding experience in your life, despite the fact that the school will feel your loss for years to come.
What a loss indeed. Although twenty years are longer than eighteen years, I had a similar feeling leaving behind eighteen years worth of family and friends. Our home or career has simply become a way of life for us. They are as much a part of us as our beating heart. There will be some pain at first but after several months it will not replace but rather add to our friends, experiences, and personality.
ReplyDeleteTo borrow your prose we must be of good cheer. We are embarking on an adventure that many others have completed before us and that many others want to travel.
Agreed.
ReplyDeleteAnd besides, how could you go on now that the best and brightest have departed?
How is the new gig, by the way?