Beginnings and endings. September and June. Grand openings and Going out of Business sales. First day of school and Graduation. Gettin hired and gettin fired or maybe retired. Openings and closings. Birth and death.
More often than not, we humans have a hard time with endings. I imagine that hard time is due in part to our natural aversion to change, but also we tend to focus on what we are losing as opposed to what we have gained. I really like the concept of having a celebration of life as opposed to a funeral, because it moves the focus from loss to gratitude for what/who we had.
In all life's transitions, it takes some work to focus on the positive and this last week, reconnecting with all kinds of friends in Winnipeg, I was reminded daily of this simple fact: the pain of loss means you had something valuable to lose.
Today, my mind and heart are filled with memories of the RSC. The Regional Support Centre is the school I worked in before I moved to the coast and has been referred to many times in this blog. The RSC was an important part of my life; both professionally and personally. It made me the teacher I am and in a myriad of ways, contributed to the person that I am.
And as of June, 2013, the RSC is no more.
Philosophy in the world of education is, by necessity, an ever-evolving thing. The latest philosophy adopted by the district involved says the resources heretofore spent on the Centre will be put to better use elsewhere to serve the needs of their at-risk students.
And so after about 25 years, the famous blue doors close forever.
While I, so far removed, am feeling a bittersweet sense of nostalgia, the most current edition of the RSC staff are feeling the sharp stab of loss. I don't pretend to know what they are experiencing and can only hope they will each find joy and fulfillment in whatever comes next for them. I trust that there is comfort in the knowledge of a job well-done.
The first and second directors of the RSC decided to host a small gathering to acknowledge the passing of the RSC era and I was thrilled that they had it while I was in town. I saw people that I hadn't seen in 5 years. I saw people I hadn't seen in 10 years. Or 12 years. Or even 16 years.
I did what I had done many times before at RSC parties at Bob and Sylvia's house: I ate, drank, talked, laughed, teased, was teased, and played horseshoes.
I also admired and helped consume a cake with RSC in big letters and LOA in smaller ones. LOA was the password on all the Centre computers after one especially memorable student referred to the RSC staff as a "League of Assholes" one day.
And while I ate my cake, I looked around at a group of people that I feel connected to in a way I have never before or since experienced in my professional life. I realized that in addition to all the kids that still live in my heart from my years at the Centre, I have bonds to people I have not seen or spoken to in years. That event left me with gratitude, again, for the opportunity to be part of such a special place; a place where I was pushed to be my most authentic self everyday; a place where it was safe to grow and learn; a place where I felt supported and appreciated.
Sylvia and Bob were my bosses. My mentors. My friends. They created an amazing thing.
I am sorry to say good-bye to the Centre, but mostly, I am hugely grateful that it ever existed at all.
Monica is the author of "Thanks for chucking that at the wall instead of me."
