By Waynette Balengee
When people ask me what I do in retirement, they’re usually surprised by my answer. Most people assume retirement is about slowing down. They picture golf, travel, lunches with friends, mahjong games, and afternoons with nowhere particular to be. Those are wonderful ways to enjoy a season that has been earned through years of hard work. But God had something different in mind for me. I didn’t retire because I was finished making a difference. I retired because it was time to start something new. I discovered retirement gave me something even more valuable—time to invest in the next generation.
Today, I spend my days in high school classrooms. Like many retirees, I spent years volunteering throughout our community. I have always believed that when you’ve been blessed, you should find ways to bless others. Serving on nonprofit boards, helping with community projects, and giving back have always been important to me. But after I handed one of my largest volunteer commitments to new leadership, I found myself wondering what came next. Little did I know that “next” meant investing in the next generation.
I didn’t need something just to keep me busy. I needed something that would keep me useful. I wanted to spend this season of life investing in people rather than simply passing time. I wanted to leave behind something that couldn’t be measured in awards or accomplishments, but in lives encouraged and futures influenced.
Without even realizing it at first, my thoughts drifted back to my greatest role model—my mother. Wanda Stinson taught fourth grade in Springhill for fifty-three years. Around Webster Parish, she became something of a legend. As a little girl, I remember walking through town with her and watching people stop to speak, smile, or thank her. Even then, I knew I was walking beside a hero. She lived every day to make others better – to help them achieve their goals. The classroom was more than paper, pencils and books. It was a place where children learned to read and write, certainly – but also where they learned responsibility, kindness, perseverance and what it meant to become good citizens.
Wherever there was a need, people knew Mrs. Stinson would do everything in her power to meet it. Far beyond her excellent teaching skills was her passion to make her community, this world, a better place. And that she did!
I thought I might become a teacher myself. Ironically, my mother encouraged me to choose another career. She loved education deeply, but she also believed significant changes were coming to the profession and wanted something different for me. So, I followed another career path.
Looking back now, I think that passion for education never really left me. It simply waited until retirement to resurface. Retirement became the season that gave me permission to pursue a lifelong dream. Before I knew it, I found myself at the Caddo Parish School Board office, completing paperwork, going through background checks, and being fingerprinted – all necessary steps to becoming a substitute teacher.
I didn’t wait for schools to call me. Instead, I started calling them. I believed high schools had one of the greatest needs, so I made it my personal goal to substitute in every public and private high school in our area. I have now worked in nearly all of them—except one that’s just a little too far away for me to arrive on time!
Waynette with Hadley Anderson and Sam Reno
Every time I walk into a classroom, I remind myself that I may only have these students for one day. But one day can matter. One conversation can matter. One smile… One encouraging word… One adult who chooses to truly see a student can change how that young person feels about themselves when they leave school that afternoon. That’s why I never think of myself as “just the substitute.”
My mission has never been to supervise students or simply hand out assignments. My mission is to know students. I want to learn their names. I want them to know someone notices them. I want them to understand that the adult standing at the front of the room genuinely cares about who they are—not just what grade they make.
I also believe the way we present ourselves matters. Every morning I get dressed as though I’m going to an important business meeting, because, in my mind, there isn’t a more important meeting than the one I’m about to have with students. Dressing professionally shows respect—for the classroom, for the teacher I’m serving, and for the young people I’ll spend the day with.
That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. Spirit Week? I’m dressing up. Special theme days? Count me in. After all, I’m more than an invited guest in their classroom. For a day—or perhaps for a season—I am their teacher. And that is important work. One of the greatest joys has been watching students realize they can take life seriously without taking themselves too seriously.
The classroom isn’t the only place I enjoy seeing my students. I attend football games, performances, and other school activities whenever I can because I want them to know how much I care. I want them to see someone cheering for them. Sometimes all it takes is seeing a familiar face in the stands to remind a young person that they matter.
I’ve learned something about the classroom I never expected. I’m not the only teacher in the room. My students teach me every day. They teach me their language, their humor, their perspectives, and the way they see the world. They’ve helped me better understand this generation, and I honestly believe today’s students carry burdens many adults never fully recognize. Some go home to empty houses. Others care for younger siblings. Many feel lonely, even when they’re surrounded by people.
I’ve also learned something else about teenagers. They aren’t nearly as interested in whether you know algebra, history, or English as they are in whether you know them. They want to be seen. They want to be heard. They want to know an adult believes in them.
Sometimes I think the greatest lesson I teach isn’t on the board at all. It’s simply showing students that they matter enough for someone to stop, listen and believe in them. Students find it easy to trust once they understand the respect I have for them and their dreams. Sometimes I think their dreams are too small—not because they lack ability, but because they haven’t yet discovered what’s possible. When that happens, I simply ask them, “Why?” That question often starts a conversation that helps them see a bigger future for themselves.
My favorite piece of advice for my students is this: Whatever you choose to become, be the very best at it. Success isn’t determined by the title on your business card. It’s determined by the passion and integrity you bring to whatever you do.
Waynette and Sam Reno
This past spring, I attended graduation and watched students I’d known through substitute teaching walk across the stage to receive their diplomas. Some waved. Some came to find me afterward. A few simply said, “Thank you.” As each graduate crossed the stage, I wasn’t just watching students receive diplomas. I was watching futures unfold. I remembered conversations we’d shared. I remembered Spirit Week laughter. I remembered difficult days. I remembered students who simply needed someone to notice them. Standing there, I realized something that caught me completely off guard. Those students had changed me every bit as much as I hoped I’d changed them. I can’t adequately describe what that felt like. In that moment, I realized substitute teaching isn’t about filling in for someone else. It’s about showing up for someone who needs you.
My friends sometimes tell me I’ve lost my mind. They can’t understand why I would choose to spend my retirement in a high school. I just smile. Because this has become one of the greatest blessings of my life. Looking back, I can clearly see that God isn’t finished with me yet. He has simply prepared for me another classroom.
So, if you’re retired and wondering whether your best years are behind you, let me lovingly tell you something I’ve discovered. They aren’t! Somewhere in your community is a classroom full of young people who need exactly what life has taught you. They don’t need perfection. They don’t need another lecture. They need another caring adult in their corner. Someone to smile. Someone to listen. Someone to encourage. Someone to simply show up.
If substitute teaching isn’t for you, then mentor. Volunteer. Adopt a classroom. Read with children. Support teachers. Find a way to invest in the future because the future is sitting in our classrooms today.
The young people who serve your lunch, stock grocery shelves, greet you at the front of a store, or mow your lawn this summer will someday become our teachers, nurses, business owners, military leaders, pastors, and parents. They are already becoming who they will be. We have the privilege of helping them get there.
Retirement has taught me something I never expected. I thought I was investing in the next generation. Now, I realize the next generation has been investing in me all along.