I have always said that I will never retire. I figure that I need a job at least half the year (185/365 ain’t bad, I have to say) to keep me from getting too lazy and to keep me out of trouble. One usually leads to the other, at least in my experience. Besides, it’s still fun, and in spite of recent meddlings by central admin, I really don’t see that fun-ness going away anytime soon.

If it does, I’m gone, but in the meantime the plan was to keel over on top of one of them when I’m at least 110 years old. Whack the stick and scare the bejabbers out of them one last time on my way out.

Notice I just said was.

When my son (hereafter referred to as The Boy) was in 7th grade (and going through my class) he ran for Student Body office. He lost. Don’t get me started about our “election process,” (three offices, a dozen or more candidates, and the kids get ONE VOTE?!) but in his speech he opened with the line that said that he was the “other Mr. Coward.” He didn’t really play it up during the “campaign” like he should have. He went with a zombie theme, saying he could bring new life to the zombie-like ASB. Not bad, and the 8.5×11 inch posters were pretty cool with him facing down zombies–no gun needed! But somebody’s dad that year had a super large-scale printer, and the school was plastered with 3×4 FOOT posters of some other guy’s mug smirking in a winning fashion. Ooooh, shiny! Landslide.

Anyway, our family always liked that phrase, The Other Mr. Coward. Now it might be the future.

The Boy is nearing the end of his junior year. (I know, really?) He did pretty dang well on the SAT and the ACT and he’s been getting junk mail from colleges daily. His plan up until recently was to go to the local college as a computer science major and try to end up at our local high school (his then alma mater) taking over the tech teacher’s job.

He’s a local boy to the core, one who realizes how good we have it here, and he doesn’t really want to move away anywhere. Hard to say how I feel about that.

But of late, he has come to realize that his heart isn’t really in the technology as a career thing. He wants to teach English. Or history. The Boy sure does have a nose for high-paying careers, huh?

So now the new plan is to actually become the other Mr. Coward. Here’s how we picture it could go down. He’s a junior now. Figure one more year of high school and five to six to get through Cal Poly SLO with a teaching credential. Let’s add about five years’ worth of seasoning. Let’s call it 12 years, and I’m pushing 67. Maybe I make him wait until I hit 70.

Anyway, during the summer he gets hired and I retire and on the first day of school, 2031, the kids at Laguna Middle School (by this time, probably called a “learning hub” or some such) get greeted by “The Other Mr. Coward.”