My newsletter is named after a traditional Jewish blessing upon encountering the majesty of a large body of water: “Blessed are you, our eternal G-d, Ruler of the Universe, who made the great sea.” BTS is a free, monthly publication which shares Jewish and non-Jewish approaches to mindful, contemplative living. Some come from from spiritual teachings from the past and the present; others from my Zen practice and Jewish faith. Included here are also some of my own news as well. BTS is a conversation, and I enjoy hearing from and responding to the readers.
American culture is preoccupied with beginnings; exits are viewed negatively, as retreats. But exit is the climax of a story. It is a moment of propulsion, rather than retreat.
— Notes from Harvard sociologist Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot’s talk at Los Angeles Main Library, 2012
In June, I retired from Los Angeles City College after teaching ESL and linguistics for 20 years. It’s not a complete separation but rather a scaling down as I intend to continue to teach linguistics there as a part-time professor. This life change will allow me to fully focus on my writing and speaking, which, as you may be aware from this newsletter, have taken over my energy and my time – my Act IV.
Act I was studying and working with music technology in Moscow, Stanford, San Francisco, Paris, and Los Angeles, which ended sometime in my late 20s.
Act II was 11 years spent in PR and marketing, starting at Stanford, continuing in a few places, and finishing at Cal Poly Pomona.
Teaching ESL and linguistics was my Act III. Those were my most fulfilling years, spent helping so many students to build their academic writing skills, transition into universities, and start meaningful careers. As a sociolinguist, I published and presented widely. All in all, I had a good run, and I’m thankful for it.
My last semester teaching full-time was hectic and emotional, especially in ESL.
Every time we’d finish a unit in the Advanced ESL Writing and Grammar course which I’d taught no less than 60 times, I felt that I was letting go of a part of me, something precious. “Now they know passive causative… Now they know how to write contrast/comparison essays… Now they’ve learned the basic terms of literary analysis…”
This class will end, I thought, and they will move on, and this time, so will I.
On the day of their final, I brought in a cart with the English dictionaries (the writing test is strictly paper and pencil, no phones or other electronic devices), but also a read-and-white striped Cat in the Hat hat, a marketing keepsake from my previous act. Students would drop their names into the hat, from which I’d pull out the winners for the stacks of short story anthologies I’d amassed in my office from teaching reading courses. I would no longer need them, but students could still benefit.
We took photos, and students presented me with a card from the class.
Later the same day, faculty colleagues took me and Jonathan out to lunch at my favorite restaurant in Los Feliz. They toasted me, and I gave a rousing delivery of Mötley Crüe’s: “I’m on my way / Just set me free / Home sweet home.” We were celebrating the present that was quickly becoming the past.
It felt bittersweet, or more precisely, sad and validating, to know that someone will miss you.
All May and June, at home and at Shabbat services, I prayed fervently to G-d for a smooth transition to my next act. Now the curtain is going up, but what’s interesting is that the next act is already underway: despite having distinctive finales, life stages always overlap. I was finishing full-time teaching, but also doing the following:
Giving a talk about adoption in the Jewish tradition at the Temple Beth Am / IKAR Shavuot event
Discussing emotional challenges of foster adoption on the podcast It’s Both: Living in the Messy Middle
Speaking at the opening of a new library at the LGBTQ+ Center of Long Beach.
A featured Pride Month talk at the Alpert JCC about our family journey and my book
A live, in-studio interview on KLBP-FM, a local public radio station
“A good exit has a performance, a ceremony,” Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot explained at that memorable talk. “Such rituals and rites need to be expressive and soulful. To end well, mark it, name it, attend to it, let others know about it.”
Her mother, she added, had always told her that her favorite view was of her children’s backs – as they go out into the world.
Please wish me good luck in my next act. Warm regards,
–Lane
PS. For more of the MacArthur Prize winner Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot’s insight on life transitions, see her book Exit: The Endings That Set Us Free.
All photos are © Lane Igoudin
Lane Igoudin | Author, Professor, Dad 