Sixty-Seven Years? Seriously?
Right, let’s celebrate. Lets heap praise and a shiny certificate on someone who’s spent sixty-seven years… teaching. In a classroom. For sixty-seven years! I mean, good for her, I guess? Truly. Its just… astonishing. And slightly terrifying.
I can only imagine the curriculum changes she’s witnessed. The evolution of chalkboards to interactive whiteboards to whatever blinking screens children stare at these days. Sixty-seven years! That’s practically a geological epoch in education. Did she adapt? Probably, because thats what people do. But did she evolve into something unrecognizable along the way? Most certainly.
I bet her students from the 1950s wouldn’t recognize today’s classrooms. And frankly, I’m not entirely sure I would want to be in a classroom with someone who remembers Eisenhower as a contemporary. Its not that she’s done anything wrong, it’s just… dedication taken to an almost absurd extreme.
Meanwhile, young teachers burn out after five years, feeling overwhelmed and undervalued. And here we are, fawning over someone whose career spans multiple generations of students. I wonder if she ever considered retirement? Perhaps a nice nap? A hobby that doesnt involve grading papers?
It’s all just…a lot. A truly staggering amount. Now, excuse me while I go contemplate the existential dread of my own comparatively fleeting existence.
