A Farewell to Kings
When I began my journey, I was three years old. I had no idea (who could!) that my initial visit to the school’s campus was merely the first of many brushstrokes to take place upon the canvas of my life. Over the years, those fresh and colorful experiences added qualities and elements to the portrait, and they helped focus the story. Each additional, textural experience contributed to what became a bricolage mural – from learner to teacher and finally principal. As my journey progressed and the medium darkened, I made it my mission to guide change to improve the lives of all learners for years to come.
Forty-two years later, after that initial visit, my hands, for the final time, brushed against the still slick, cream-glazed bricks that once appeared new to young eyes. The date was June 26, 2015, and it was my final day on campus as Lane Tech’s principal. The first time I ever entered the school was through Door M, as is customary for all visitors provided access to the building. On this, my final day on campus, I purposely exited out the mirror side of the building through Door J. My exit on my final day provided a poetic bookend to the journey, as I would pass a sojourner.
I never exited out of Door J during my entire career. The exit was on the far end of the parking lot and not conveniently located, but it was always much more quiet and private. I was transitioning to a new district where I would eventually go on to serve as superintendent of schools, but leaving for the last time was not going to be simple. I said my goodbyes to my administrative team in my office and in theirs, and prepared to leave. With a slight pause, I began my final walk down the once colossal hallways that ironically, grew to become minuscule.
Before reaching the door, I ran my hand against the wall’s irresolute textures as my fingertips knowingly brushed from velvety, smooth brick down into jagged crevices of mortar and then back up again, for what would be the final time. My memories, no longer confined to a cache, were a torrent of unconscious emotions. The palette of hues could not contain the deluge, and the paints mixed and flowed as tears. I was overcome with the realization that the once new colors that moved from brush to canvas all those years earlier were no more. They had finally matured and faded, making the portrait complete.
Vapor Trails
As I walked on my own, I was not alone. I carried with me a sense of pride for my family and satisfaction as a lifelong learner. I was hopeful for the learners I had prepared, and for the learners still to come. I was the first person in my family to graduate high school and go on to earn multiple college degrees, but I would not be the last. I felt a sense of validation on many, many levels.
And finally, those tactile sensations, this time uninterrupted, at long last imprinted in synesthetic unison and would remain. And I felt content knowing what I led, and what was accomplished through shared leadership and as a community of practice, would also stay behind.
And then, I was gone.
The little boy that began the journey so many years earlier, however, survived and remains. He is still within. I never lost my child-like sense of discovery learning, and creativity imbues both spirit and mind.
And so, it came to pass. A great many things had, in the end, changed.
And I, most of all.
