Not Approved

I don’t believe in unrequited love. Never have. In fact, I hardly believe in love at all. I try to reject overused concepts that break hearts and choke on clichés. Still. A simple search indicates I’ve used the word “love” at least fifty times on my own site.

Which means I’m part of the problem. Damn.

Anyhoo, not counting all the sarcastic ways to abuse the word, my point remains that love is a many complicated thing. I seriously love my family and close friends - that’s it. My husband is the only man I’ve ever loved romantically and I waited good and long before giving my heart to him. Poor guy. Took years.

That’s why I don’t believe in unrequited love. How can you possibly love that which does not love you back? Sure, there’s unrequited lust or affection. Been there, done that. But love? Impossible. Such a condition indicates bad taste and a lack of self-worth.

So ugly. So not me.

To rework that famous Groucho Marx saying: I’d never belong to a club that wouldn’t have me as a member. Such a club would simply be no fun at all.

Which brings me to my mailbox Saturday afternoon. I received a letter from Hillsborough County School District. My employer returned forms filled out (before Colorado became a consideration) for next year. I was to return to Superior High School and, as a result, needed to place my children in an elementary school nearby so we’d be close during the day.

Such requests are usually honored. First of all, as a principal once told me, picking our children’s school is the only perk teachers get. (Unless you count free chalk.) Secondly, I teach special needs students, which is a critical shortage area. As a result, the district wants to keep us happy and employed in its schools. If having our children nearby keeps us happy and in the district, everybody wins.

Therefore, I sent in paperwork and expected to make the move a reality. It was also a major reason I wanted to stay in Tampa – providing a familiar and comfortable home and education for my kids. Saturday, I received the district’s response. Two words: Not Approved.

No explanation. No apology. No “I only like you as a friend” rationalization. Nothing. Just the proverbial blow off.

My friend Sharon used to say, “Don’t go after someone who doesn’t want you. Just drop the reigns and let the horse keep on trottin’.” I’m still in touch with that emotion. Which is a whole lot better than asking, through tears, “Why? Was it something I said?”

The district’s rejection could be an error or bureaucratic snafu. I’m sure it’s not personal – not in a district of over 69,000 students. I suppose I’ll never know. These sort of happenings (first my husband’s job and now this?) make the inevitable move just a tiny bit easier. I won’t pursue a town or district that seems to provide sign after sign after sign that our home and future lies elsewhere. If you listen closely, you can almost hear Florida whispering: Get out. I tried to love Tampa, I really did. It just didn’t love me back. So I’m out.

Got a heart to protect and all.