Chapter 85
He retired from Pemberton Secondary at sixty-three, after twenty-two years as a teacher and twelve as principal the same number of years his mother had worked at the factory before building her own thing.
He noticed this parallel. He thought it was the kind of thing she would have noticed too.
The retirement gathering was in the school hall, which he had last renovated three years before. The morning assembly format was maintained a student read a piece of writing. A Year 8 student named Kofi read a poem about his grandfather's hands. The hall was very quiet for the reading.
Marcus stood at the back and thought: good. This is how it should go on.
He gave a short speech. He thanked the people he needed to thank. He said, as he had always said: the work continues. The room is where it starts but the work continues beyond it.
Miss Osei, in her retirement, had come. David, who was head of department and had been for fifteen years, was there. Several generations of former students some of them now teachers themselves, some parents, some professionals in various fields were there.
Aaliyah came. She was forty-four years old and a published novelist and she stood at the back of the hall where Marcus had always stood and caught his eye across the room and smiled the smile of someone who knows exactly what they owe and is glad to owe it.
He had told her, at thirteen, to publish her writing. She had published five books.
After the gathering, as the hall emptied, he sat for a moment in the front row the front row he had sat in when Mr. Okafor read his essay about the mango tree and said, with full weight: Good.
He sat there for five minutes.
Then he picked up his bag and walked out into the Kingston afternoon and went home.