june 3, 2:29 am

I never begin writing with a title in mind because rarely do I know what I am going to write about until sentence two. Or in this case, sentence four or five. Here’s another for cadence.

I survived the year and every curveball thrown at me, and I could not have asked for a better ending to this chapter of my life. I am without words, which is unfortunate given this present endeavor. I received many letters and gifts from students, current and former, in the last few weeks of school. My favorite was from a former student, Gavin. Here’s the backstory.

Every year I ask a class or two what color the number eight is. I get a mix of responses: confused looks, random calling out trying to get the right answer, etc. There is not one right answer, but the people who know the answer to the question of what color the number eight is are not aware that their answers are unique in at least two ways. A) They know what color the number eight is, and B) their color is rarely the same as someone else’s. The correct answer is green, in case you are wondering. No, there is not one right answer, but to a synesthete, there is exactly one. And the synesthetes in the room, having never been told that eight is not a color in a normal brain, become confused as to why there are different answers and even more so that most people have no idea what I’m talking about. It’s a fun game I play. Synesthesia is super interesting, and students learn something they might never have learned about brains, even their own, had I not asked. One of the reasons I start the conversation is so that as the year progresses and they start to notice that I often confuse fours and sevens or that blue is sometimes Saturday, they won’t think their physics teacher is a total whack job.

The year before last, Gavin told me that I am forest green because I am happy all the time and also because of the way I walk. That was the best sensory mix-up I’d ever heard, and his group thought it was hilarious. Gavin thought so too, and they laughed about it all year.

At the end of his senior year, which was a couple of weeks ago, Gavin brought me a gift. Two candles: one in a purple frosted jar and the other in a forest green frosted jar. The purple one was called “Joy and Laughter.” He didn’t have to tell me what they meant, he just asked if I remembered.

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Today I submitted my resignation. I pulled all of my folders and files off everything linked to my drive and email and anywhere else I won’t have access to after today, and all of those folders and files are now strewn about my desktop and shoved into other folders. It’s all very messy. The packing of my house started in a similar manner, but now everything is either tossed out, given away, put in storage, or put on display to make the house homey so that a buyer might buy it. Still waiting on that last part, actually, but I’m moving regardless. I signed a teaching contract last Thursday. Today I rewarded myself for getting through the madness of the last year with a hot-fudge brownie sundae. It was the best hot-fudge brownie sundae I’ve ever had.