I miss teaching. I literally dream about teaching in some form almost every night. Last night it involved a talk I gave recently about purses and personality to the Relief Society and knitting and my son, Brad in his pajamas. But I was teaching. I was at home in the classroom.
Sometimes my dreams have me teaching adults, sometimes high school kids and other times it's at LDS Business College where I taught for eight years, but usually they are lucid and do make some sense. I could sometimes regive the lessons I give in my dreams to Carl, though he would hardly appreciate it. They would be short, but they would make have some coherence. I could write a lesson plan from some of them.
I try to console myself by telling myself that it was a good run and that few people find a career they love like I loved mine. Usually, though, they just remind me how much I miss everything about teaching. I miss the students, the involvement in my lessons, my association with colleagues and with the school itself. I miss the order, the routine, the sense of duty and work to be done.
The only thing I don't miss is setting my alarm every day of my life.