For the last twenty years I have worked in the same building. This is almost half of my life and it is the longest thing in my life aside from Rob. While I am not a sentimental, " stuff" keeper, this building holds memories and traditions that I will keep with me forever. I entered here in 1997 as Ali Silverman. I returned in 1998 as Ali Lazorchak. While here I moved into my home and and six years later gave birth to Hayden. I have watched friends get married and have children, and shared in celebrations with colleagues. I have attended funerals for colleagues, their children and students. I have laughed so hard that I've cried. I have cried. I have shared in the joy of friends retiring or becoming administrators. I have shared in the pain of friend's diagnoses and battles. I have had the pain of friends leaving. I have taught in 9 different rooms. I have watched so many staff come and go. I have taken on crazy responsibilities that have allowed me to grow or become frustrated ( vending machines?). I have seen student successes and disappointments. I have felt the love and support for Hayden, Rob and I as we have fought through surgeries and extended hospitalizations. I met my best friend. I have lived a good part of my life in this old girl. While it is certainly time to go , and demolish her as we move into our new, modern digs, it strange that everything has become a last.
Traditions, unlike things, are insanely important to me. I have passed this down to Hayden. Years ago, when a restaurant we used to go to regularly with a group of friends ( who are now scattered about the country) closed, he sobbed. Not because the Cracked Claw was so amazing ( although it was lovable) but because it was a last. A last time we'd gather, eat crabs, drink beer, off-track bet, and be together there. This is how I feel about this move. It is long overdue and this building is gross, but it represents a tremendous chunk of my life and experiences.
While I am not usually sappy, I got teary packing my desk the other day. I do not want to stay here, nor am I really sad to move. It is just the lasts that are hard. Turning in keys, closing my door, walking down the hall, stomping a roach, walking out , looking over my shoulder...all lasts.
I am ready for the next era of FHS. Better, cleaner, higher tech, more beautiful, a better place to serve students , but filed with old traditions and new memories. And in ten or so years...a few more lasts
Thanks for the memories old girl.
" You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here..."
