One of the great things about social media is that it gives us a small insight into what other people are thinking. This post is a story about how people reacted to a recent post in a completely unexpected way, and it made me do some of my own processing of a difficult situation.
A couple of months ago, I posted an update on my facebook account informing my friends and family that I have chosen not to teach this year. Instead, I am focusing on writing. Several people commented on that post with positive messages about how it was great that I was stepping out to do something I love and to follow my dreams.
While I definitely appreciate all of their encouragement and faith in me, those people are missing the point.
Teaching was the dream since I was a child. Writing was never the dream.
The thing that those friends don’t know is how difficult teaching has been for the past few years. My last year of teaching was so difficult that it seriously affected my mental health.
I didn’t quit teaching to follow my dream of becoming a writer. I quit because I felt like I was failing.
It was incredibly difficult for me to give up teaching because it was more than just a job to me. Teaching was a part of my identity, and it still is. The only reason I decided to quit was that I knew that I had come to a point where I could no longer serve my students. I have seen so many teachers get burnt out, and they just end up taking it out on the students because they have no other option. My side-job as a writer gave me an opportunity to make money and take a break to deal with the burnout I was experiencing.
This career change was not about following my dreams. It was about saving myself and making sure that I did not do more damage than good. Non-teachers will never understand the pressure that teachers face and how much more pressure we put on ourselves.
Parents get mad at teachers when their child is failing, without realizing how many times we have jumped through hoops to try to help their child succeed. Administrators lose sight of the purpose of teaching and turn it into a checklist that doesn’t actually serve the kids. On top of all of that, we have the added pressure of monthly active assailant drills that remind us that we may have to willingly lay down our lives for the sake of students who would spit in our faces if they had the chance.
Teaching is one of the most challenging jobs, one of the most important jobs, and yet it is the one that is most underpaid and undervalued. I am proud of all of my friends that are teachers who continue to strive every day (including during the summer) to do their best for their students. But I couldn’t do it anymore. That is still hard for me to admit.
My journey as a writer is just beginning, but before I can celebrate it, I have to grieve the loss of teaching.
I am loving my life as a writer right now, but I am still sad about the fact that I am not teaching. At least for this year, the world lost a great teacher. There are students somewhere who probably need a teacher like me, and they are missing out because the pressures of the job were too much for me.
Writing is a new adventure, but it was never the dream. In some ways, I made my dreams come true a long time ago. Teaching was more than just a job to me, and I truly cherished my time with my students. But the bureaucratic policies, lack of support, and daily exhaustion became too much for me. The dream wasn’t all that I hoped it would be.
I am still a certified teacher, so who knows, I might go back into the classroom again in the future. Don’t ask me what my plans are for a year from now because I have no idea what this year will bring. Maybe God will give me a new dream, or maybe he will just change something in me.
No matter what happens, I know this is the right step for me right now. The dream is changing, and I am learning. When your dream changes, you have to live in the tension for a little while. You have to enjoy your excitement about what is next, but don’t forget to mourn the loss of the old dream as well. It is okay to grieve the past with joy for what is next, even though that sounds impossible.
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