I met Anita in 2010, I interviewed for an ESL teaching job at this school in 2010. Later in the evening, I’ll find out she’d been hired to work in the office as a registrar in 2001. She applied several months after being laid off by PG&E. She’d worked with the electric company for 20 years, but the dot-com bust and the recession that followed impacted the entire Bay Area. Twenty years with one company and 24 years with another.
Anita grew up in San Francisco and was sent to Catholic School like her sister. Anita’s a new grandmother. The adorable little baby boy is also attending the party. Her son and her daughter are both present. Finally, Anita can spend her days outside of an office. She’s looking forward to going to the grocery store when it’s empty. She admits she can’t really sleep in. The body is too used to being up at seven.
There are about 50 people here in the banquet room. A side room connected to a golf course restaurant. Teachers, office co-workers, retired school employees and family. A fond send-off for a reliable and pleasant co-worker.
Anita’s a lifelong Bay Area resident. When I began teaching at this adult school, my class was off-site, at an old community center a few miles away from the main school site. I taught in a classroom that adjoined a day care center. I was a solo teacher, learning about this unique community of adult learners from Mexico, El Salvador, Yemen, Iraq, China and the Philippines, among other countries. This building in a forgotten neighborhood on the edge of Daly City and San Francisco.
When I went to the office for meetings, I saw other teachers. I chatted with office staff. I learned Anita was a Giants fan who knew the ins-and-outs of baseball, attending games regularly with her husband. Giants talk became our main mode of banter. This was during the rise of the Giants World Series window. The short, skinny acrobat on the mound named Tim Lincecum. Buster Posey won Rookie of the Year. Matt Cain got Cy Young award votes. Aubrey Huff knocking in runs. That 92-win 2010 team won the World Series. The park was packed. The fans were alive. The Giants did it again in 2012. Then again in 2014. The “every other year” team.
When I entered the office, Anita was there at the keyboard, entering in student information on the screen. A brief hello. Some words about the Giants. Then I’d go in for the meeting. Use the copier. Say hello again to Anita and the other office staff, then head out.
Working in isolation isn’t easy. Remote work is common in 2025. Since 2020, I’ve taught online. Once a week I teach an in-person class. It’s been an adjustment, but one that works for my two part-time teaching jobs, and now a third job as a school coordinator. The flexibility allows me to work and balance the demands of parenting and family life.
A few years ago, word spread that Anita’s husband was diagnosed with cancer and she was caring for him. It got worse. A few months later, he died. I offered condolences. She was a healthy-seeming, good-natured woman in her early-60s. Had been married for decades.
The office of the Adult School was located in the same structure as the small school district’s main office. Built in the early-1970s, it was a flat, one-story complex that had all the appeal of a low-level, minimum-security prison, complete with poor lighting and heating. Every office and every classroom had a portable heater plugged into the wall. Word came that the school district was finally building a new district office and adult school. The project was delayed. Then the digging began. Finally, two years later, the school moved.
Anita had her own small office. For the first time. She’d work there for just over a year. When I visited her there, the walls were bare. They’d moved in a month earlier. I asked her about the walls. She wasn’t worried about it. I got her a Willie Mays canvas print. It arrived in the mail a few weeks later. I brought it in and gave it to her. She was touched. The following week, she’d left a card in my mailbox. It was a Hello, Kitty-in-Giants-gear-themed “thank you” card. I laughed. Anita remembered seeing Willie a few times in San Francisco, outside of Candlestick Park, driving around in his pink Cadillac. She’d seen him play as a child at the old windy park.
The retirement party was festive. The bar was open, but not complimentary. Probably best, since I was planning to have only one with the long drive back home. I had an IPA and chatted. I was happy for Anita. The food was set out buffet-style. A wide selection of pies and cakes all laid out after the entrees. I sat down with a plate of everything, sipped my beer and talked with a few other teachers.
Two older men, one from Vietnam who’s in his early-70s, with grown daughters and multiple grandkids on the east coast. The other teacher’s a lifelong bachelor who plans to retire within a year or so. I was happy to see her family, her daughter holding the tiny grandson who had no idea what to do with all of these strangers. I was happy to see Anita’s son, who was sketching on a piece of paper during the short speeches.
Then it was time to go. 6:30 p.m. Darkness had settled over the ever-present fog of Daly City. I felt the slight buzz of the beer, but was fine to drive. I headed back toward the bridge, glad to have GPS to direct me back home.