School's Out, and I'm Plaqued

 

Thursday, June 21, 2012 – School’s Out, and I’m Plaqued

Yes, school’s out – but this year, I don’t feel that crazy mixture of elation and exhaustion that used to reach its peak in mid-June.  Without the academic year to structure my life, there are fewer built-in highs and lows.  After twenty years, that’s something I’m still adjusting to.  In fact, on Tuesday, I attended the AHS end of school year luncheon, an annual ritual held at 10:30 a.m. at a local restaurant.  Although I was delighted to see my friends and former colleagues, I listened with a tinge of envy as they spoke excitedly about their summer plans, and how they will use these brief two months of freedom.  Many have travel on the agenda.  One is taking a two-week Mediterranean cruise, another is flying out to Madison, Wisconsin to start a road trip.  On one hand, I’d love to tag along.  But on the other hand, I’m quite content to spend a low-key summer close to home before we embark on our own travels in the fall.  

And Wednesday night, I was plaqued (see photo above), signaling the official end of my FCPS career.  Along with the plaque, I received a white rose and a goodie bag with a trail mix bar and some candy – not a bad reward for 20 years of service.  The plaquing occurred at a special ceremony held in the auditorium at a nearby FCPS high school, and it followed a reception for retirees and their guests.  I wasn’t sure what kind of food would be served, so I took the precaution of pre-eating (eating before going out to eat), a practice I often follow when the menu at an event is in doubt.  Shortly before we left home, I whipped up some gallo pinto, the Costa Rican rice and black bean dish that I adore, figuring that it would sustain me for at least a few hours.  

It turned out that the reception, which featured live music and a buffet prepared by FCPS Food Services, was quite elegant.  In fact, it almost made me forget that I was in a school cafeteria.  The food certainly wasn’t the standard cafeteria fare.  The buffet tables were overflowing with meatballs, scallop-wrapped bacon, mystery roll-ups, fruit platters, various cheeses and crackers, crudités and dips, hummus and pita chips, and of course, an array of mini-sized desserts.  Elliott enjoyed the equivalent of a whole meal.   He rose to the challenge of cutting off a piece of oozingly soft brie from the cheese display with only a toothpick (utensils were noticeably absent), while I used the dual-cracker method to scoop up some shrimp salad. 

At the ceremony that followed, each retiree was recognized individually.  While I was sitting in the audience, awaiting my turn, I thought of all the years I’ve watched my former students proudly stride across the stage at Constitution Hall to receive their diplomas.  After my name was announced, I went up on stage to receive my plaque and shake hands with the superintendent of FCPS and the members of the school board.  The moment seemed surreal, and passed in a blur.

Meanwhile, my patient, Elliott, alternates between comfortable and uncomfortable times.  He’s baffled by the unpredictability of his lower back pain.  He wonders if it’s caused by too much activity.  I suspect, however, that it’s caused by too little activity, and I’m trying to get him to join me at the gym again.  It would be better than his most recent obsession – trash wrapping.  This somewhat bizarre behavior started around the time of his birthday celebration when he finally decided to clean out the garage.  He has a triage system: items he thinks we can use, items that can be donated to Goodwill, and items that are destined for the trash.  But unusable items cannot simply be dumped into a trash bag or directly into the large green plastic trash bin.  Oh, no, not at all.  The item must first be meticulously wrapped in several layers of newspaper, which must be secured with tape or string.  Only then is the tidy package ready to be deposited in the trash container.  Since I’m not generally with him in the garage during this process, I wonder what valuable items he may have designated as trash.  Likewise, items destined for donation are wrapped and placed in an apple box.  (Elliott favors apple boxes for packing.)  I wonder if my plaque will soon join other treasured heirlooms on display at the local Goodwill store.