Final Bow, First Year

Closing the curtain on a year I never planned, with hope there’s an encore.

Many people don’t know that while I was writing books, making films, and doing theatre, I was also holding down a day job. For about 25 years, that job was in management. Almost 20 years in arts management, and before that, Corporate America. When I finally walked away, I told my husband one thing: I didn’t want to be in charge anymore. No more decisions. Just show up.

Fate, as it turns out, had other plans. And I’m glad I didn’t listen to myself. The planner who plans everything didn’t plan this.

What started as 12 weeks turned into something I didn’t see coming. Come in, teach a little, go home. That was the deal. Then I was asked to return, and even that became its own education.

Technically, a sub’s job is simple: make sure students don’t fight, get them outside during a fire, take attendance. We’re not teaching a class. But I love when a connection happens anyway. Discussing a student’s project. Talking to a business student with specific plans and sharing my time at Deloitte. Confusing the TV studio class who knew me as the theatre guy when I mentioned two short films at the Cannes American Pavilion. Having a student find out you’re an author and ask you to read and review the book they wrote for their history teacher. Then handing you a copy they made just for you.

I got used to being there. It stopped feeling like something I was testing and started feeling like my place. I never stopped looking for other jobs, but I noticed my focus shifting toward education in a way I hadn’t expected. That shift set things in motion. I now have three New Jersey certifications covering theatre, film, and substitute teaching. I’ve applied at schools posting for theatre teachers. I’ve gone after director positions for high school plays and musicals. I’ve even gone back to school myself.

None of this was on my radar a year ago.

I never expected how close I would get to these kids. All the teachers in my life tried to warn me, but I still felt like a pretend teacher: someone caught in the middle of those doing it and those setting out to do it. This week the students set me straight by asking me to sign their yearbooks. Seniors who had been away from campus for six weeks doing internships found me and greeted me as long lost friends, sharing stories of what I meant to their last year and making me realize my reasoning for this year of giving back was totally justified.

So here we are at the end of a school year, and I look back on my first year with fondness and awe. You read that correctly. I said first year like there’s a hope there will be another.

I’m listening to graduation speeches drift in from outside while I sit in the auditorium with the freshman class. Hearing it from this side of the journey hits differently. I’m smiling, because this is the same auditorium where it all began. Curtain up on whatever act comes next.

Coda: As mentioned in another Substack, I am back in college and have decided to double up on classes this summer while not working. That means I won’t be doing a weekly Substack, but when something hits me, you can bet I’ll be here sharing it with you all.