For the past 5 years I've had the Perfect Job.
Teaching piano to primary school students
In school time.
Two days a week.
In the suburb I grew up in, about 20 minutes away.
* * *
I stayed there because I loved it.
Yes, some days were better than others
(Some days I was falling asleep next to the piano
... that was before the school provided a lovely new room with a window and a view)
... but overall, I loved it.
But part of me wanted to be home more,
and have more spontaneous time on my calendar.
I would sometimes dream of Something happening
to stop me teaching at the school.
Because I was never going to give it up,
although we didn't really need the money,
because I loved it, and it was Perfect.
Last year in an effort to Slow Down I dropped to just one day a week.
This year, I stopped loving it.
I don't know why.
Maybe because a few of my long-term students left last year.
. . .
And then Something happened a few weeks ago to make me give it up.
Let's just say that school politics and policies were involved.
So ... I gave it up.
Yesterday was my last day.
And they gave me flowers.