About two months ago, my husband and I accepted teaching job offers at a neighboring high school, 17 miles of interstate from the one we had both called home for almost twenty years.  In doing this, we will join our sons’ school district and one we have connected with through other community actions. Education does not, by tenure policies or nature, encourage moves like this; however, my husband and I have both felt a resurgence in the processes that accompany starting anew.

Admittedly, numerous conversations and events of this week have my heart feeling a little heavy about the students we are leaving. On the last day of school, I had a few “choked up” moments and tried to exit in a way that honored how my students had grown because, even if we had stayed in the school district, they would not be “mine” in the same way anyway.

We had a quality meal and conversation with one family last Sunday and, since then, a series of events have reminded me of how much I truly enjoyed what I did and for whom I did it over the past 17 years. I won’t go so far as to say that I am regretting the move now, and I am probably too stubborn and determined to admit such a thing down the road either; however, it triggers thoughts of what is “known” versus that which is “unknown,” and how we face such contrasts.

I know a handful of the students I will teach next year. Likewise, I know and have been meeting a number of my colleagues. What brings both trepidation and exhilaration is the unknown. What characteristics are within the people I think I know that are still invisible to me? What levels of thinking can still be unveiled? What skills will I help advance? What discoveries will I make with the support of these folks? What will the relatively barren classroom feel like when I actually start calling it “my room”?

Embarking on this has parallels with summer travels. In my experiences, it is rarely an event on the pre-planned itinerary that becomes the signature moment of a vacation. The stories we tell years after a trip typically stem from something remarkable that was not anticipated. When we allow ourselves to accept that our actual experiences and relationships trump our original vision, the unknown becomes more magical than we could have designed it to be.

While I do not know what the future holds, I know that many gifts await me. In addition, I have a responsibility to let myself embrace all of the mysteries, from where I will eat lunch to which students need me to invest in them.