By Derrick Brown (follow on Twitter @dbrowndbrown)
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Discrete Notifications (1137 Words)
(62nd Day Of School)
(Tuesday, November 4, 2025)
By Derrick Brown (Join Our Mailing List!)
Empath Remixes #90 – Discrete Notifications (62nd Day Of School) (1137 Words)
The hallway speaks in whispers again.
Two colleagues have taken extended leaves in the past few days.
Watching this unfold, as I prepare to take my own leave, has reminded me that
discretion is both armor and art.
Wise men conceal knowledge, yet wisdom also requires disclosure at the right
time, to the right people, in the right way.
I am learning that silence and speech must coexist carefully when your peace
depends upon it.
There are those who need to know where I am going.
There are others who do not.
The difference is not about trust … it is about timing.
Rumors will fill every vacuum that truth does not occupy, and this building
breathes rumor like oxygen.
Each story grows in retelling, sprouting new embellishments each time it
changes hands.
These narratives of absence become cautionary tales told in staff rooms and
side halls, quietly reinforcing the myth that stepping away from dysfunction
signals failure rather than self-preservation.
As I watch the responses to their departures, I notice the sudden warmth extended toward them ... the emotional support, the group messages, the hallway hugs.
It is as if the institution grants affection only after exhaustion has already done its damage.
I am not sure that I want or need that kind of farewell.
What would mean more is to have been heard earlier.
To have been listened to ... not contained, not assumed, not managed.
I have spoken in essays, reflections, conversations, and meetings.
Yet the echo that returns is silence … or policy.
The key part of “hollering” is not the sound … it is the hearing.
A voice has meaning only if someone else’s ears are open.
Today’s classes went well enough.
The rhythm was familiar.
The classroom felt manageable, even peaceful at moments.
Beneath that calm, though, a quiet discernment was at work.
I began to sense which students I should tell about my upcoming absence.
Trust is an act of selection, not announcement.
JS was the first.
She has carried the weight of honesty all year ... sometimes heavy, sometimes clumsy, but always authentic.
I told her simply that I would be taking some time away to write, to rest, and to reflect.
She nodded.
Students may feel the vibrations of fatigue long before we name them.
Later, I told KM and DB.
These are the students who have met me halfway, who have recognized the human being behind the routine.
They will understand that this sabbatical is not surrender … but strategy.
I trust that the rest will be revealed in due time.
I sent them my “mission statement” ... a short treatise describing what the book I am writing seeks to do.
It is the same book I have been living in real time, the same record of reflection that documents the long road from containment to clarity.
I told them that my absence is not an escape from teaching … but an extension of it.
I am stepping away from the classroom so that I can return to the world as a better teacher, a clearer writer, and a more peaceful man.
I want to continue teaching them ... on the other side of this soul-numbing experience we call high school.
The word “discrete” has occupied my mind all day.
It means separate, distinct, carefully individual.
It also means tactful.
My notifications are discrete because my purpose is not to invite attention … but to preserve intention.
The fewer explanations I give, the less opportunity for misinterpretation.
Yet complete secrecy would feel dishonest.
Transparency must be measured so that peace can breathe.
I have learned that too much revelation can turn reflection into spectacle.
What surprises me is how calm I feel.
The exhaustion is real, but beneath it lies a sense of readiness.
For months I have lived in reaction ... responding to microaggressions, managing crises, defending boundaries.
Now I feel the beginnings of agency again.
Taking leave is an act of creation.
It creates space for healing, for thinking, for writing sentences that do not begin with an apology.
Watching others depart under pressure has shown me the importance of preparing the ground before the storm.
I will not leave as a casualty.
I will leave as a craftsman taking time to sharpen his tools.
The hallway remains noisy.
Conversations rise and fall like unpredictable tides.
Some colleagues look at me with curiosity, perhaps sensing that something is changing.
Others avoid eye contact.
This is how institutions handle uncertainty ... with distance, with chatter, with polite distraction.
I have learned to observe without absorbing.
Their silence is not my responsibility to interpret.
My task is to finish well, to close this chapter without closing my heart.
When I look at my students now, I see more clearly who listens.
I see the ones who look up when I pause between sentences.
I see the ones who keep working when the room shifts into noise.
They are my reminders that purpose still lives here.
Teaching has never been about everyone understanding at once … it has always been about someone understanding eventually.
Even one listener can justify the lesson.
My sabbatical will not be a disappearance.
It will be a recalibration.
I intend to write daily ... to shape these reflections into the book they have always been becoming.
I will walk, pray, and listen more deeply than I have been allowed to.
I will give my body and mind permission to rest from hypervigilance.
I will study what peace looks like when it is not constantly under surveillance.
I will write until clarity replaces fatigue.
I will call that clarity healing.
There is wisdom in moving quietly.
There is also courage in announcing movement to those who matter.
These discrete notifications are both farewell and invitation.
To JS, KM, and DB, they are an invitation to keep learning through my words even while I am away.
To my colleagues, whether they ever know or not, my absence will be an unspoken critique of how we treat those who serve too long without support.
To myself, it is a covenant … to rest without guilt, to return only when I am ready, and to remember that absence can be as instructive as presence.
When the day ended, the building settled into its usual hum of dismissal.
I lingered by the door for a moment, listening to the echoes of footsteps fading down the hall.
Every sound carried both departure and return.
Discretion is not secrecy. It is stewardship.
It is knowing what to say, when to say it, and when to let silence finish the sentence.
I closed the door, turned off the lights, and whispered a quiet benediction to the room …
“Those who have ears to hear … listen for what comes next.”
Selah.
(The "Follow The Leader (changED - Volume 2)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
(The "changED (Volume 1)" Audio and Video Album / Mixtape is also available at TeachersPayTeachers.com)
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I am a “standup storyteller.”
I fuse rap, spoken word (poetry), oration (traditional public speaking), singing, and teaching into messages of hope, healing, and change that I write, direct, and produce to help people who help people.
Everything must change - and stay changED.
Tradition begins and ends with change.
Change begins with me and the renewing of my mind ... then continues through efforts to effect small-group discipleship (equipping others to equip others) with audiences that respect and embrace mentoring, mediation, and problem solving as tools of change.
I am the product of my mentoring relationships, peacemaking (and peacekeeping), and problem-solving ability.
My education began when I finished school.
After school, I enrolled in a lifelong curriculum that includes classes in ministry, entrepreneurship, stewardship, literacy, numeracy, language, self-identity, self-expression, and analysis / synthesis.
My projects execute a ministry that has evolved from wisdom earned through lessons learned.
I want to share this wisdom to build teams of "triple threat" fellows - mentors, mediators, and problem solvers.
We will collaborate in simple, powerful ways that allow us to help people who help people.
I now know that power is work done efficiently (with wise and skillful use of resources, interests, communication, and expertise).
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