Editor’s note: Becky Aylor is leaving the Sisters School District to accept a temporary position at Mountain View High School as Dean of Students.

For me, I’ve said more goodbyes this last month than I’d care to admit. I thought I’d always be an Outlaw. I bleed black. It’s been an amazing ride. My Leadership squad did our “last” back-to-school assembly, our “last” Veterans Celebration, I went on my “last” field trip, read my “last” essay, filmed my “last” Outlaw News, returned the “last” of my library books, entered my “last” grade, read my “last” parent email, sent my “last” email, ate my “last” lunch with my colleagues, cleaned out my “last” drawer, erased the “last” of my student doodles on my white board, turned in the “last” of my keys and ate the “last” of my chocolates on my desk.

The four-letter “L” word has haunted me — until today. “Last” might just be another word for “New Beginnings Ahead” and that refills my heart with joy.

I suppose it’s that feeling when you turn a page in a book and you are completely shocked that the goodness of your story is ending. It’s a bittersweet vibe. So cool to have a slight heads-up it’s ending — with a half page to go still — and yet the sound of the book closing also allows one to look up and see all the zillions of stories that are yet to be unlocked. Adventures to chase, mysteries to solve, wonders to ponder. These all lie ahead for me — and for all of us — in 2020!

My Outlaw book closed.

My Cougar book is on my nightstand.

I earned my administration license in May. I couldn’t be more stoked to head to Mountain View High School in Bend in January. The Dean of Students role is a natural fit for who I am. It’s a blend of investing in students by building genuine relationships, providing creative tools and skills for success, holding students to high expectations and, most importantly, teaching resilience when “we” fail.

I’m actually pretty good at failing. As a “goodbye” gift, one of my leadership students did a hysterical video blooper compilation of Outlaw News. I completely rocked failure. We tanked the Missing Man’s Table more times than I could count in practice. I goof entering student grades, I lose my glasses all the freaking time, and can barely remember where I park my car at Costco. My daughter has missed a lot of baskets in basketball — she also had a PR in her last game. In the end, we need those misses to find success. In the words of Wayne Gretzky, “We miss 100 percent of the shots we don’t take.”

Keep missing shots, so you can make them. Keep saying goodbyes, so you can say more hellos. Continue to take risks and challenge yourself. Being content is for pansies. Dream Big.

No.

Dream Bigger.

2020. Bring it on. I’m ready.

PS. As for that Outlaw book. I am keeping it. On my shelf with my favorite bookmark in it with all of my students, colleagues and family names, pictures and great memories on it. Who knows, maybe down the road there will be a sequel.