It is Official.

August 8, 2025

How do you feel? Do you love being retired? How’s retirement? All summer these well meaning questions have been asked, with an expected answer of , “It’s the BEST!” My surprising consistent reply has been the same, “I don’t know, it just feels like ‘summer Becky’ right now.”

Summer Becky is what my mind and body know. She is familiar, comfortable, free, and for the most part not stressed from day to day. In reality life’s stressors don’t break for summer but I think you get it; I know my fellow teachers understand.

However, like clockwork, stressful dreams began in July. Some were specifically school related, others just bizarre. Then August comes rushing in like a lion and my body knows it. My physiological being feels it.

I just returned from a delightful beach trip. Gifted to Linda and me, by our dear friend Juli. These two lovely humans had already hosted a retirement celebration from which I will never recover, nor do I want to.

Then, they decided the first week of school would probably be the best time to whisk me away from first day school pics, faculty first day photos, buses picking up and dropping off students of all ages.

They were wise. It was best and my body told me so. Upon arriving at our beach cottage excited and awaiting every moment to come, I decided to nap for a bit. I slept poorly the night before…was it it excitement about the beach, or built in back to school jitters that are out of my control, retired or not?

My nap was quite restless. I had some episodes of panic and heart racing–Why is this happening, I asked myself ? There I was at the beach with best friends and could not find peace or calm. I tossed and turned for nearly two hours, trying to rest, but my body resisted.

Upon stepping from my bedroom into the light of Juli’s cozy cottage my anxiety began to diminish. It’s ok to be here, it’s ok you aren’t at school, its ok to have fun today, it is OK to let go, I tell myself. My girl’s encourage me and lovingly share it may take a year or more for my body to adjust. I reassure myself that others will take care of, love on, and teach the incoming students; a new family of 8th grade babies that would have become MY kids the moment they they walked through my classroom door. With puddled tears, I know they are in good hands. They will be loved well and I will miss them, because this week they walked through someone else’s door. It is official. Mrs. Jones is retired, but my motto still stands…”Once in my class, always in my heart.”