MY CAREER PURGING HAS BEGUN. It is time to begin sorting through my four tall classroom file cabinets and three closets and discarding manila folders full of old lesson plans that I’m now, at last, certain I will never need again.

I will retire at the end of the next school year. I had planned to wait until next fall to begin the sacred shredding of my life’s work. I figured I might take one last crack at distributing those old dot matrix handouts I’ve collected and re-teaching some of those old forgotten lessons that still have validity. It’s only that I have so many lessons that some great ones get lost in my vaults.

However, we recently got the word that next year English will be taught out of a Common Core textbook. Someone else will be providing the reading materials and lesson plans for me. My 30 years of lesson plans are no longer considered to be enough to properly educate my students. Only the folks at CC Headquarters know how to do that.

So I’m beginning the purge early. I may not have the chance to insert all my self-created lessons in my final year. I’d be quite upset about this intrusion if I had more years to teach. As it is, I’m quietly folding my tent. Education has changed. Craftsmanship is being replaced with packaged instructions. That’s just not my cup of tea.

When I began my purge, I thought it would be just a matter logic, a session of yes/no, stay/go, trash or stash. I didn’t expect my emotions to engage. That caught me by surprise. I’d have expected emotions to swell had I been cleaning my garage, or my den files, but not at school tossing out old vocabulary quizzes and apostrophe games.

I’ve always been a big fan of student prototypes, examples of completed assignments from previous years to show to current students to guide them in their projects. Thus, much of the paper pulled for perusing was the work of former students.

First thing I pulled out was a writing folder that read “Kristi Brinkerhoff ’87.” What do you know. Her young nephew, Brandon, was sitting five feet from me typing an article for journalism. “Here, Brandon, give this to your aunt,” I said. “See if she remembers.”

Next I pulled out a sheaf of Halloween stories written in 1986. One was written by Jackie Bonnette. What do you know. Her young nephew, John, was coming through the door to attend my second period English class. “Here, John, give this to your aunt,” I said. “See if she remembers.”

I found a Dante project, a hand-drawn comic book spinoff of Dante’s story told in modern time, with Rambo playing a part. It was created by Chris Larkin. I know many from that family. Chris went on to mastermind the popular computer game Guitar Hero. I will pass it off to Dorothy in the library, who is close friends with the Larkins.

I found all my humor lessons. Back when I got my credential at Cal State-Hayward in 1985, I had to create a masterfully designed full-blown unit. I chose the history of humor. Why do people laugh? What social function does humor serve?

I had a collection of funny short stories, essays and cartoons with associated theories of laughter as described by the philosopher Henri Bergson, who felt intuition was more effective than science in understanding reality. I had hilarious activities for students.

We used to spend three weeks on my comedy unit in my first few teaching years, then two weeks, then a few days, then it faded into the back of my file cabinet. Instead I assimilated the material and talked about humor and laughter in the context of other required content.

For a moment on purge day, I thought of rekindling humor for my final year, but decided against it. I’ll be busy learning the new textbook. Nothing funny there. Into the trash went articles by Steve Allen and Woody Allen.

For a while in the 1990s I was allowing a handful of my top students in each class period to create part of my final exam. My only requirement was that it had to be challenging, comprehensive, and somehow fun to take.

I discovered a thick folder full of exam samples from those years. In it was a fistful of stapled student-created questions and activities. As I flipped through them, I was re-amazed at how brilliant and currently relevant they all were. It brought back some fond memories. I had five solid minutes of reminiscent joy. What a great run I’ve had. I do so love teaching.

Maybe I can fit that activity in again one more time.

I’ll keep that folder.

Steve Gibbs teaches at Benicia High School and has written a column for The Herald since 1985.