RETIRING FROM TEACHING

  RETIRING FROM TEACHING by Nancy Davidoff Kelton-April 2026 issue

 I stopped teaching in 2024. I began in 1971 when I graduated from college.  My first job was at a public school on New York’s Lower Eastside as an Above Quota Teacher, an in-house substitute.  I covered for absent teachers before outside subs were called. Many of the students acted out. Getting outside subs at our school was difficult. Few subs came back a second time.

As the AQT, I brought YERTLE THE TURTLE, other Dr.  Seuss books, Shel Silverstein books, and other favorites which I read aloud or had the kids read. I had them draw pictures, write stories, play games, and sing songs, or I would do what their teacher assigned.  If there was a record player in the classroom, we would listen to Ben and other Michael Jackson songs.   

After six months, there were openings for classroom teachers. I taught first then second grades.  The music teacher took a medical leave and I was the only staff member who could play the piano, march the kids into assemblies and play the national anthem, so I became the music teacher.  The district music teacher came once a week and taught a string class—violas, violins and cellos-- to grades five and six.  I helped.  I taught third and fourth graders how to play song flutes. With the younger grades I taught 6os and 70s songs to sing, accompanying them on the piano.

I connected well with the children better than I did with the teachers.  I found many petty and racist. Some spoke their minds in degrading ways. One called a group of students in her class that she isolated in the back in a horizontal row “The Do-Nothing Row.”  She explained that they came to school to make trouble and use the toilet.

Among the first essays I wrote and had published was one called “The Children in the Do-Nothing Row.” I wrote and sold more personal essays on teaching, the teachers, and the students. I was acquiring plenty to say.

 I could not find biographies of famous people for very young children in the school library or anywhere. I came up with an idea for stories about Harriet Tubman, Helen Keller, the Wright Brothers and Harry Truman that were not linear but captured their personalities, wrote them and pitched them to several publishers.  One said yes.

I left the public school system and found my niche as a writing instructor at the New School, New York University, Hunter College, the Strand Bookstore, at libraries, and privately. I taught both undergraduates and professional people.  My classes were called Writing From Personal Experience and Writing For Children.  

Many students stayed with me for years and had the essays and books they wrote in my class published. They were good writers, persistent, open, and willing to revise and revise some more.  Others were not as motivated and did not really want to revise or work hard.  They did not want to write as much as already have written They thought writing would be easy.   Or easier than they had assumed.  Ha!

I liked teaching. In the beginning it intimidated me. Then it excited me.  I liked my students.   They learned so much from me as I did from them.    I was good at figuring out what they needed and individualizing instruction.  I continued to get article and book assignments and acceptances from editors, including one to write a memoir.

It became difficult to focus on my own work and my students', especially with writing weekly comments on their manuscripts. Wanting to concentrate more on my own writing, I eliminated two classes.  During the pandemic, I eliminated all but one class. Then all.

Now that I am not teaching anymore, I still run into onetime students at the library, at the gym,  in the neighborhood and at events.  They tell me about other classes they are taking and what they are writing if they are.  They ask if they can show or send me their work.  I remind them that I am retired.  One former student, who happens to be a retired graphic artist asked if she could read me the opening paragraph of her memoir.  I said yes.  I told her that was it.  She emailed a month later asking if she could send more or if we could have lunch to discuss her work. I reminded her again that like her, I was retired. 

I am in my late 70s and eager to stay focused  on my writing.  When I think about my elementary students in my first classes, I wonder if they still live on the Lower East Side, if they have families and what kind of work they do.  I know the whereabouts of some of my writing students, mainly the ones who still want my feedback. 

What I know for sure about all my  students is that we had no Do Nothing Rows.

                                                                        The End