I Quit My Job
I quit in December, but my notice period ended on January 16th. It was a difficult last day, and I knew it would be. I could hardly get out of bed to face it.
It began with a staff meeting with my department, and they’re the most extraordinary group of people. They gave me cards and gifts and made me feel loved and appreciated. When the students saw me with a bag of gifts, they asked if it was my birthday. “No,” I told them, “it’s my last day.”
I’ve been telling the students one by one that I’d be leaving, but I’d only told the students who I thought would care. It turns out a few more students cared. Some of the toughest boys started saying, “No, miss, you can’t leave. That’s dead. Are you really leaving? Why, miss? That’s dead. That’s dead.” I thought that’s dead meant that’s boring, but I think it’s more like another version of that’s not on.
They’ll be fine, but it was nice of them to make a fuss.