Once, this girl was at a liberal arts college in Vermont, just taking all of her prerequisites and landed in an education class.

Then, a spark was lit.

She was a psych major, but took more education classes just to learn more. This turned into a double-major and a love for all things education.

For the year and a half that she wasn’t working, it was hard. Sure, being home with your child is an amazing experience that she was lucky to have, but that passion  to do what you love is truly missing.

For the past two years, she worked at a school that… wasn’t necessarily her ideal school. Her boss was… different. From any boss she’d ever had.

Since she’s not that old, she thought, “okay, one of life’s challenges… difficult boss. This has to be a learning situation.” She toughed it out for 2 years, but in the second year it got bad.

She cried often and felt very conflicted. The children were children that came from difficult homes and a difficult neighborhood. She grew up in a difficult neighborhood. She really, really felt like these kids needed teachers that cared. She is a caring teacher.

She cried because she really felt like she could not figure out a solution- does she quit? Does that maker her a quitter? A failure?

She prayed about it, asked for advice from her husband, fellow teachers, family and a human resources manager that she knows.

She decided to stand up and do what she felt was right. Whether or not it played out well is moot.

She decided to resign at the end of the school year with very, very conflicting feelings. It was really hard to do. To walk away from people that she enjoyed working with and children that truly epitomize why people get into teaching in the first place.

It’s hard, though, to do your job when you feel oppressed from the top down. (There probably is no better word) She learned that when teachers are unhappy it trickles into the classroom and the children know. She learned that your passion can be sucked out of you so easily. She learned that high test scores didn’t matter if you literally hated waking up in the morning.

She didn’t have any other prospects.

She knew how tight the teaching market was.

She knew what would potentially happen, financially, to her family if she didn’t get a job. This? Was the most scary part.

But she knew that she would not be able to take one more year in that place.

Sure, the pay was great. The district she worked in pays thousands more than other districts. But at some point, she learned, money can not be a driving factor. After all, no one gets into teaching for the money, right?

Her letter of resignation was about four sentences. Short. Sweet. And to the point.

She went on interviews and did not list her boss as a reference. She knew her boss wouldn’t say anything nice or true because personal feelings would cloud professional judgement.

She had one job interview and lost out to another co-worker from her school that was leaving. That co-worker was more experienced and an all-around amazing teacher. She was glad to lose out on a job to someone like her.

But… she did land a new job.

Her second job interview.

It was going to be a little over a $3,000 pay cut, but it was also going to be a fresh start and a way for her to get back to what she loved.

She knew that she and her husband would figure out a way to make their income work, less the $3,000 they wouldn’t have.

She knew that she’d be happy again.

Teaching.

I’ve been sitting on this post for a while, but haven’t really had the right words to convey what I was feeling and what was going on. I plan to chronicle my move to my new school over a few posts. Hopefully, I don’t bore you to death. 

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