Job security? Really?

I know it's been a long time since I posted here, but there's been a lot going on. We're working on getting planning approval to put a roof terrace on the house, among other things, and I'll be leaving my job for almost two months for my share of the year of parental leave in a couple of weeks.
My teaching job here has been a year-to-year appointment. That's never bothered me, since I don't worry about losing my job. Instead I just do it. I've never belonged to a teacher's union because I am instinctively skeptical of people who are apparently obsessed with making sure they can never, ever, EVER lose their job for anything they might do. I've taught at three high schools and two universities, always on a year-long contract, and that's been just fine with me.
So last week the principal asks me to come into his office and tells me they're really pleased with the job I'm doing and reading my evaluations made him think that "this is a guy we want to keep," and now that my credentials have finally been approved by the Norwegian Education ministry, I am eligible for a tenured position and do I want one?
Sure I do. I teach at one of the best schools in the country and my students are first-rate. One of them is going to Oslo at the end of the month to prepare for the International Physics Olympiad this summer. My colleagues are outstanding professionals and fun to work with. My father-in-law lives next door, so when he needs to look after Ella, the handoffs are a snap. The only thing that could make things better would be an on-site masseuse/aromatherapist.
What did I do to deserve this much professional good fortune? I've just shown up places and great situations have just fallen into my lap. My first job I got because Mom heard the principal was looking to restart the German program, and I end up establishing an IB-credentialed German program from scratch in four years and working with some great people, including a US Presidential Scholar. (I ended up with two of America's most prestigious teaching awards for the dumb luck and good fortune of having him in my class.) I moved to San Francisco because of Inki's job with nothing lined up and cold-called schools in the middle of the summer. "Sorry," the secretary at SFWHS said, "but we don't have anything for you. All we have is a full-time position for a German teacher in the high school." "Oh, you just need a German teacher, huh?" And the next three years were just fantastic. Leaving that place and those people was one of the hardest things I'd ever done, but this was the time for Inki to come home and for us to start a family.
And now I've got surprise tenure and an administrative pat on the back, as well as folks applauding in the teacher's lounge for my physics Olympian. Teaching students like this is really just doing a competent job of presenting the material and getting out of the way, and it's a bit twisted to get so much credit for it. It's sort of like if you had the guy who changed the oil filters on the winning car in the Indy 500 on the trophy stand with the driver accepting the cheers of the crowd.
Sometimes I wonder why they even pay me. Though, I must admit, it's a good thing that they do.