Foreshadowing?

Layoffs are always hard for schools. Last year, I volunteered to be part of a farewell committee to honor the teachers in our building who had been laid off. We wanted to do something--even something small--to say goodbye, and thank you for all that you've done in the time you were here.

It's an awkward task. When someone retires, it's a big deal. We all give 20-30 dollars for a dinner and a gift, and everyone from the district that knows that teacher goes to the dinner. There's also the faculty luncheon on the last day of school: the entire faculty attends. I was involved with that, too. A friend in the English Department retired, and I gave the farewell speech. Everyone there gives the retiree a standing ovation. And the retiree's whole family goes to the luncheon, too, to watch their loved one on his or her last day of school. But layoffs--different.

One constant is that they never go to the luncheon, which I totally get. Why would you want to go watch others get the send off you imagined for yourself, 20 years from now? Plus the fact that many of those laid off are busy in their classrooms, silently and privately grieving as they pack up their lesson plans, their books, their notes, and the goodbye gifts from kids.

The farewell committee asked me to talk privately to our three teachers who were laid off. I asked them if they would mind if we had a modest get-together to honor their service. Two of them said thanks, but no thanks. No hard feelings, but no.

Again, I got it--being laid off sucked, so why go to a party where everyone's going to look at you with sympathy? But one person was a friend. He said, Yeah, sure. Okay.

About 30 of us went to a local bar--we had drinks, and food, and a friend from the history department gave a small speech. We all clapped, and said, This totally blows, etc--

And that was about it. We gave him a card that all of us from the high school had signed, and then most of us left. I think a small group of guys stayed. I think they stayed to help him get bombed, and then to drive him home. It was a really sad day.

It was more than sad.

The day we lost those teachers, there was a jolt, and a pause, in the rhythm of all of our lives, and we stumbled to keep from falling. And the dust from that stumble trails even now, like chalkdust marks from a long day of lecturing.