Leaving: The Road Ahead

 

Yesterday I rode down to Rockaway Beach. From there, I pedaled into wind that, at times, reached 40KPH (25MPH) to Brighton Beach.

Along the way, I thought,  among other things,  about the encounters with students I mentioned in my previous post. They could’ve changed my mind about a decision I made earlier. But something one student said made me realize I made, if not the right choice (if there was one), but one that could work out in ways I hadn’t planned.

Someone asked a food writer or chef—I forget which—what he would choose for his last meal. “Wait—I thought you hated those foods,” the interviewer interjected. “Exactly. I don’t want to be unhappy about leaving this world.”  For me, the conversations I had with the two non-binary students, particularly a comment one of them made, left me satisfied that this coming week, I will be teaching my last classes.

Not long after I had the dream about a classmate I hadn’t seen since graduation—and finding her name on my high school’s “In Memoriam” list—I wrote my letter stating my intention to retire as of 1 June, just after the semester ends. While there are ways in which college teaching has changed that are not to my liking (e.g., online classes), I am not leaving because of dissatisfaction or even burnout, though I find that the work seems to take more of my energy than it did years ago. Rather, I am satisfied that I am leaving on a good note: The in-person class that included those two students is one of my favorites, and the two online courses I taught this semester at least had students who seemed friendly and worked diligently.

My student is right: Wherever I go and whatever I do next, I will offer people like them, young and old—and myself—what  I have given them and what I did not have when I was their age or when I started my gender affirmation process.

What Next?

 The semester is ending. Although my workload hasn’t been greater than in previous years, this has been a pretty intense time. Some of that has to do with the students themselves, though not entirely in a bad way. But I have also been experiencing things outside the classroom—or, more precisely, within me—that have made my interactions seem more fraught and rewarding at the same time. 

The ride I took to Point Lookout on Saturday and a Sunday visit to the Botanical Garden were what I needed: both invigorating and restorative. I will return to them again, barring some unforeseeable (for me, anyway) tragedy or disaster. Monday, on the other hand, included the last session of one of my classes. Students thanked me as I’ve never heard before. One stayed after to tell me that, for the first time, they felt confident about their future.

You may have noticed that I used gender-neutral pronouns. The student identifies themself in that way. I “outed” myself in that class: something I hadn’t done in any class in some time. “That made me realize the life I want is possible,” they explained. I urged that student, and another who identifies as non-binary, to stay in touch with me, and not only for a reference or letter of recommendation.

I told them a bit about how I began my gender affirmation process. Although I participated in support groups and was working with a therapist who helped other trans people through their affirmation processes and a clinical social worker who was a trans man, I didn’t have role models in my day-to-day life.  Some lesbians and gay men were supportive, but their journeys were, in some ways, very different from mine. For them, not to mention family members, friends, co-workers and other people in my life, I was the first person they knew who was making that “transition.” Now I am giving what I didn’t have.

I confided to them that I’ve been thinking about leaving the US. Sometimes I feel I need it for my mental health. Other times I feel I should stay because of people like them. “Well, whether you stay or go, you’ll offer the same thing you’re giving us,” one student assured me. “If you move to France or Italy or wherever, there are young people like us.”

Where, and how, will my midlife journey continue? Perhaps there is no right or wrong answer—as there is for so many of the questions I, and they, pose.

When Your Cup (Or Bladder) Runneth Over

 What determines what your ride will be like?

Is it the weather? The kind of bike you ride? Its condition? Or, maybe, what you had for breakfast?

Did you drink tea or coffee? If you did, did you have o e cup too many?