Yesterday, August 3rd, most of the schools in my area began their new school year. For the past week, I've watched as my teacher friends, veterans and rookies, trekked back to their respective classrooms to ready them for the new school year. New teachers can't wait to get going; lots of the older ones are already counting the days til summer break next year. Some of them try to hide their excitement, but I know how good it feels to get back in the routine at school!
Then there's me. Simple, little me, with not even four full years of experience, convinced one hundred percent that I just wasn't meant to do the thing I set out to do seven years ago. I remember being the most eager, excited person in the world summer 2012. I spent hundred of dollars on my new classroom, while purchasing a house at the same time. I just knew I was going to be the best teacher...
Until I wasn't.
I've talked about my experience on the blog a few times, so I don't have to go into all of that any longer, but it seems that everything negative from my first semester as a teacher created a snowball effect in my career and it was all downhill from there.
I do miss it sometimes. I miss the kids and the relationships. I miss the days when I taught really spectacular lessons and had my kids really engaged. I miss helping young people understand things in a new way and learn new words and accomplish something that made them feel good about themselves...
I can't help but feel a little bit jealous because the truth is that I sometimes wish it had been for me. I wish the bad experiences hadn't happened. I wish I'd done things differently my first year. I wish I'd been less afraid of speaking up. I wish I hadn't quit on those sixth graders in February. I wish, I wish, I wish...
I guess the one thing I can't regret, despite what it costs, was not quitting on me. I tried so hard for four years and I couldn't make myself the teacher I'd dreamt of being. People kept telling me, "Give it one more year... Give it until year five..." Give it this, give it that, it wasn't happening. I knew in my heart something wasn't right, and I was the only one who could change it.
I realized life was too short to be as unhappy as I was all the time. I realized I was meant for something more than the mental torture I inflicted upon myself daily. I realized I didn't have to hurt anymore if I didn't want to.
I'm so much happier now doing what I do. I have a job I am proud of, and I work hard each day and love sharing my work with others. But a part of me will always be a teacher, always. A part of me will always love admiring the new school supplies Target puts on display in July, the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, the sound of kids chattering, and of course the part where I stand up in front of people and teach them something new.
But it wasn't for me. Despite almost being done with a master's degree in education, teaching wasn't for me, and I'm okay with it. You've got to get out there and do you, right? Figure yourself out. Go teach and fall in love with it. Go teach and discover that you hate it.
Go forth and be amazing. Make mistakes and find what it is you are truly passionate about, and do that. The climb is worth the view in the end.
Kate
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