My Retirement

 I'm retiring from teaching high school in June. During the pandemic, when teachers went from heroes to villains within a few months, I decided that the moment I hit 30 years, I would bow out. And so I am. I've done the math and figured that I've taught approximately 6,720 teenagers. Every year, I give my students approximately 75 assessments (including homework, essays, tests, projects, and more), meaning I've graded about 497,300 assignments. Every year on average, two or three of my students fail, so my failure rate is about 0.0004%. Wow. In my career, I piloted the co-teaching system, in which a special education teacher teams with a subject teacher in a class loaded with special education students. The system is now universal. I created the media literacy class out of thin air and for a while, it was one of the most popular courses in the district. When I started teaching, using colored chalk was considered edgy. Now every classroom has a SMART board. I have four certifications (German, English, health, and speech/theater), and I've taught all four of areas. I've never taught Honors English or Advanced Placement. Students who struggle with school need good teachers, too, and it turned out I have a knack for reaching them, so that's the population I stayed with. I'm proud of keeping a low failure rate while not dumbing down the curriculum. I've had epic battles with administration over a number of issues. What books the students should be "allowed" to read. Library censorship. The language I used on my blog. The gay characters in my novels. Teaching about condoms in health class. Running mass shooter drills. Wearing a religious symbol in the classroom. Right-wing parents and administrators who wanted me fired. And twice, death threats. Sometimes I won, sometimes I didn't. Some days the tension was so high that I threw up in the bathroom. Then I rinsed out my mouth, returned to class, and taught as if nothing had happened. When people ask me why I persisted in a difficult, thankless job, I tell this true story: One day, a student told me I'd had her uncle for sophomore English eight years ago. His name was DJ, and I remembered him. The student said DJ was serving overseas in the Marines, and she mentioned to DJ on the phone that she had my class. He got excited and said, "You tell Mr. Piziks that he's the reason I'm here!" I asked what DJ meant by that. It turns out that DJ was planning to drop out of school in tenth grade because it was too much of a struggle and not worth the effort anymore. We were reading THE CRUCIBLE at the time, and I asked the class a tough question about the play. I called on DJ, who gave a prompt answer. "That's right!" I said, and went on with class as usual. But for DJ, the moment was entirely different. "In that moment," he said, "I realized that I WASN'T STUPID. I stayed in school and graduated and enlisted in the Marines and right now I'm doing what I love and it's because of Mr. Piziks. You tell him that." And she did. Another true story: I was at a school function one evening when a parent came up to me. "You're Mr. Piziks, right?" she said. "You had my son Noah last year." I remembered Noah, and told her so. She said, "When he started middle school, our family went through a really bad time, and Noah became withdrawn. He didn't speak much. He never laughed or smiled. We tried everything—therapy, medication. Nothing helped, and we were so worried. Then he started high school and had you for English. After a few weeks, he started to change. He smiled for the first time in years, and he talked about you and what he did in class. He was actually excited about going to school. Your warmth and humor brought him out of his shell, and I'm so grateful. I wanted to thank you." She hugged me, and I was tearing up. But now it's time for someone else to take up the reins. Will I miss it?  Probably now and then. For now, I'm ready to rest. 

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