The thoughts and doubts went on and on. As someone who had virtually worked his entire life, the thought of not doing so was both frightening and exhilarating at the same time.
Nothing had prepared me to make this decision. This was one of the most monumental decisions I had to make – yet there was no point of reference. In fact it was so open-ended that it felt like jumping off a cliff and hoping I would land O.K. On the other hand, my job was stressful. The daily grind was taking its toll yet I was still in my fifties and I wanted to participate in all the things I had been postponing most of my life. What to do? This was the question always at the back of my mind that year.
Having worked throughout my career as an educator and then later as a school administrator, I was able to find an interesting position as a principal in a remote fly-in community in Canada’s High Arctic. The contract would be just for a year and the position seemed to be a great fit for my training and experience. Also there were other plusses: an income and it would fulfill a certain sense of adventure for which I seemed to be wanting.
After talking things over with my wife (who decided to stay back that year in order to sell a small business in which we were involved and to be there for our youngest child who was off to university on an adventure of her own) I accepted the offer and submitted my retirement letter. There was no going back!
I submitted my order and got busy packing. At the time I was allowed to bring ten bags with me. I wanted to bring things that I would need until my sealift of supplies arrived. Already this so-called retirement thing was proving to be hugely busy and, if I was honest with myself, somewhat stressful.
How can I describe my first year of retirement? I think that it was a combination of awe, anxiety and exhilaration. When I arrived in the small fly-in community that was to be my home for the next year, I was met by a member of the local school board. He directed me to my accommodations and, after unpacking the bags I had brought with me, I went out to survey the little village (or hamlet as they called it.)
At the time I thought that this tranquil scene was idyllic – something right out of a story book.
One of the first sights I encountered was that of a little girl running down the track between houses with a narwhale tusk in each hand. There were Arctic Char (fish) hanging up to dry and three women were scraping a caribou hide in the afternoon sun and speaking to one another in Inuktitut . While walking to the Northern Store a few Inuit practiced their English as I went by them by saying: “Hello principal.” It seems everyone knew who I was before I arrived.
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