Dear Liz

Dear Liz,

I have always returned home after summer vacation with a certain amount of dread. This state of elevated anxiety is the result of many years of conditioning—years of returning from one glorious vacation or another to find some bombshell awaiting either in my email or magnetically preserved on my ancient answering machine. Your email ensures that the tradition is alive and well.

Your form letter email bears all the marks of an author whose star is rising: concise yet personal and appropriately seasoned with a little humour and the politically correct amount of bullshit. The staff has been personally informed by the captain why she is abandoning ship.

I realized at an early age that ambitious people only stay long enough to satisfy themselves that the job has been well done. It was for this very reason that I was constantly urging the staff to make life more difficult for you—create a personal nightmare that would take years for you to sort out, thereby ensuring ourselves of your continued presence. The fools chose not to listen and God only knows what fate is now in store for us.

My first reaction is to be insufferably bitter about your decision. I could go to great lengths making you feel guilty about leaving those who suckled you through your administrative infancy only to be discarded like an unwanted skin, but no, instead I will do what is right. I will congratulate you on your new appointment. I will tell you how I enjoyed working under your leadership and wish you good fortune. I will do what is proper and not think of how devastating this change of events could be for me and the staff.

Good Luck! Please keep me in mind when you make Superintendent.

When I had finished the response to Liz’s email I paused before hitting send. Should I bother sending this? What was the point?

It took a few minutes and then I realized. I was hesitating because I felt inadequate, trivial, lowly.

Liz was about my age. We had the same qualifications. Why was I still in the classroom and Liz had finished 5 years of principalship and was moving on to a larger school? Shouldn’t I have had more ambition? Shouldn’t I have had more drive to have a position of authority? Shouldn’t I have worked to gain more respect in the community?

Curious questions.

Most of us respect authority figures because we have been taught to do so. Authority figures are also considered necessary for the maintenance of law and order. We, in fact, still show respect for authority figures even when we disapprove of their actions or character.

On the other hand, classroom teachers are often maligned. Governments usually underpay us and the segment of the population that has no children consider us soft and underworked.

Interesting how an attempt to congratulate has led me to question my own validity.

Diving deeper into my feelings, I began to recall the number of principals I had worked under over the years. Six in all. And, to my amazement, there were only three that I had respected. The three I had not enjoyed were arrogant, narrow-minded and lacked tact. I had the distinct impression they had opted for administration because they could not hack it in the classroom.

Alright. So where was I going with this line of thinking? Was I jealous of Liz? Jealous because I respected her, and she was an authority figure?

I tired of my questioning and hit send.

A few weeks later a new school year had begun. I stood in the doorway and welcomed my new group of 12-year-olds. They took a seat and soon all thirty-two of them were quiet and looking expectantly at me. My mind flashed back to my ruminations when sending the email to Liz and then, just as quickly, returned to the questioning gazes of my new flock. Were they going to get the great teacher?

Yes, they surely were!