I just stumbled upon some writing from 2010 that made me teary eyed. In response to a writing prompt, I wrote about the love I had for my job, my career. I was destined to teach and I knew it. Reading the complete piece and comparing the beginning of my career to the way it ended is heartbreaking for me because I never would have imagined that my fire would go out.
2008: I love my job. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t. Calling in sick is no longer an option. My work is important and I am important.
Every day is a new adventure. My passion has been ignited. My cup is overflowing as I move from one exciting unit to the next. My students notice and make comments about how I just love everything. “Today we will be learning about______ and you are going to love it!”
I was energized. Teaching gave me the kind of satisfaction that refills your soul. My classroom was a warm and inviting place. Anyone was welcome and intolerance was not acceptable. My classroom was full of laughter and talking. Everyone was engaged in learning and nobody want to stop. We talked about science and history. We made connections between reading, writing, math, and the actual world around us. We worked together as a team, because we were a team.
I was happy. Working made me happy. I was surrounded by my friends who were working as hard as I was, but still enthusiastic about doing it. Days were never tedious and my work was never done. I would go home and my mind would keep searching for new ways to improve my craft. Each year brought hope and new beginnings. Each child filled me with hope and I wanted to challenge their minds. At the end of the day, my life was better because I knew that I was making a difference.
Fast forward 11 years:
2019: Big changes are coming for me. With an extremely heavy heart I have decided it is time for me to step away from teaching. A job I used to love and be so passionate about has become a large contributor of unhealthy stress and it has been impacting my personal health and my family. No job is that important to me. It isn’t about the money or the politics. Myself and my family must come first. This decision has been difficult and it wasn’t made lightly. I have been thinking about it for a few years, but I have felt stuck. The only thing I have ever wanted to do was to be a teacher. I don’t know how to be anything else.
The truth is, I am struggling. I am out numbered. Out of the 23 students in my class, more than half of them require some kind of additional accommodations or plans to be successful. Unfortunately, not all of my students who need additional support can qualify for an IEP or 504 plan. It is difficult to meet all of their needs on my own. Not all of our families can access the mental health services they need because there just isn’t a lot of providers in our area and healthcare can be expensive. Still, every day I show up and try to accommodate my kids because I know if I can meet their needs, we can finally get to the business of learning. I know that I can’t do it all because the resources to do what I need to do simply aren’t available. There is no joy in learning and there is no joy left in teaching.
How I got here…
At the end of last November it was suggested to me that I take some time off. Quite honestly I had a total melt down in my principals office because he moved a table. I was exhausted and he could see it. I have not been myself for a long time. I wanted to do the right thing for everyone, but I was suffering. I couldn’t muster up enough energy to take care of my own kids, take care of my house, make dinner…life. I needed a break but the idea of doing one more thing sent me over the edge, even if that one thing was to do nothing.
When my boss suggested I use some of my sick time to recover, I laughed. I asked him if he was joking. The reason I even had enough sick time was because taking time off was too much work! Immediately I thought about everything I would need to do to prep a sub to survive in my classroom for three whole weeks! After some thinking, panicking, long talks with my therapist and a lot of crying I realized that I was defeated. I took the time off.
Allowing self care does not come easy for me. Each afternoon I would nap after work, not because of self care, but because my body would shut down and I couldn’t function without one. I was in survival mode. Taking time off was difficult. I felt so much guilt. I was abandoning the kids that needed me to keep them feeling regulated and safe. I felt as if I was being selfish because I had to knowingly put their needs to the side to help myself. They were having a difficult time at school while I was away. I had failed them, I was sure of it. The truth is, they would have struggled even if I was still there.
A few months later, I was asked to think of something that brings me joy so I could do more of that. My first thought was sleep, because who doesn’t like a nap. Then I thought about typical things. Reading, nope, too tired. Exercise, um…nope, too tired. I couldn’t think of a single thing that would bring me joy. It was then that I realized, this job was killing my soul.
I had the overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t helping anyone even though I wanted to help everyone. I started running through my excuses for staying. I could justify them all. I thought about how I would let my family down by losing some of that income. In the end, money is money and you spend what you make.
I thought about the parents who I would be letting down. The parents who are filled with the same sorrow and hopelessness I feel as a parent. I empathize with parents of the tough kids because I am a parent of a tough kid. I wanted to be there for them, a pillar of hope in their difficult world.
I thought about my friends, my community, my family that had been built during the five years at my school. I didn’t want to leave them. I didn’t want to jump ship, after all, we were in this hot mess together and we were in it for the long haul. I would be letting them down. They would see me as the quitter that I know myself to be when things get tough.
In the end, I was depleted and defeated. Nothing else mattered. I cleaned out my things, turned of my classroom lights for the last time, and I turned in my keys. It was the end of an era, and I knew it. I could almost hear the music from the ending credits playing during the final episode of a beloved TV series. Yes, it was that dramatic. I was determined to focus on some self care for the summer, doing things that would make me feel human. It is going to take more than one summer for me to get my bearings on life.
The transformation from my beginning to my end is disheartening. The novice teacher, filled with hope and love whittled down by the sadness and pressures of life. I still don’t miss the classroom. Walking into a school setting gives me anxiety. I am only now realizing that I did not fail as a teacher. I am allowing a creative space where I can grow and experience life in a new way. I am working on bringing back light and laughter. I am working on bringing back childlike joy.
The beautiful thing is that life moves forward. I don’t have to know how it will all end. I will continue on my path, one stop after another, this time without a plan. I welcome the roads that twist and turn because without them my story would be dull. No matter when or how each chapter ends, I will always get a new beginning. Friends, remember what is important. Do what you love and if you can’t remember, find it! Most importantly, take the time to relax and enjoy your journey.