Once in awhile, there is that golden opportunity for a teachable moment. We teachers feel compelled to bestow our wisdom onto our younger students hoping they, too, will appreciate our guiding words to help them learn a valuable life lesson.

Who knew – that the teachable moment I learned a few days ago would not come from the classroom, but on the gym court playing in the annual faculty vs. student flag football game on the very last day of our Gnimocemoh festivities. Yup, I learned my lesson all too well – that I needed to face and fess up to the truth that I was just too old to play competitively in a game against 14 to 19 year olds, who happen to be excellent athletes in excellent shape. This life lesson should have come to me in a bang rather than in the multiple whimpers I experienced these past few days as I recovered from a myriad of bruises and cuts that littered my elbows, knees, and he left side of my wrist and chin.

Don’t get me wrong – I love playing in the game. I love the good-nature competition between teachers and students, the thrill of potentially crushing the students when the teachers racked up the points and the friendly banter that goes on between the players on the court – even if the seniors are prone to cheat a bit. Although some of my cuts and stinging floor burns make it seem almost worth it – the heart needs to listen to the mind on this one – the reality of it is that my out-of-shape body is just plain too old to run up and down the court fielding a football on offense or un-flagging a student on defense.

Life, instead of possibilities now has limitations – at least when it comes to flag football. It is hard for me to think that my age is pushing me closer to life’s finishing line, but metaphors aside – it is the plain-awful truth. I am getting old(er) and I can’t do the things I used to do in the good ol’ days.

I played the nine years I have been at Regina – that’s a pretty good record. However, it is time to hand over my flag belt to one of the younger teachers who can make running and catching look so effortless. Next year, I will be with the many fans in the stands — rooting for the faculty (but secretly rooting for the students, but don’t tell anybody).  I already know I will feel a true sense of nostalgia, but, at least, I won’t need the aspirin, ice-pack, heating pad, or the Ben-Gay. Touchdown!