Note: I hope this answers the questions I’ve been getting about my plans for the upcoming year. I apologize for not answering sooner, and I’m sorry for the length of my response and my tendency to ramble. This is long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. ;)
September 3, 2014—How many times have I attempted to write this post? I can’t even guess. It’s been on my mind every day since we moved out to Chicago this past June, and I’ve been putting it off—unsure of how to go about writing it—for just as long. Yesterday was September 2nd, the first official school day for children in the Chicago Public Schools system. And yet I wasn’t in front of a classroom, like I have been every September for the last seven years.
I joined the New York City Teaching Fellows back in 2007. If you haven’t heard of it, the NYCTF program is similar to Teach for America. It educates and certifies recent college grads and “career changers,” and places them in hard-to-staff schools in New York’s five boroughs. At the time, I was feeling unfulfilled in my job as an online editor and down in the dumps about the monotony of my day-to-day. Life inside my cubicle seemed meaningless, and I wanted to make a change. The NYCTF program—which I learned about from a subway advertisement—seemed like the answer. And it was.
Don’t get me wrong; my first year teaching middle school English in the South Bronx was incredibly difficult, and came with its own set of unique challenges. I had three 90-minute classes that were mostly full of over-aged eighth grade students, many with extreme behavioral and emotional problems. (Some of them legitimately terrified me. Heck, one of my kids lit a worksheet on fire that year.) Most came from broken, poverty-stricken families, and had had their innocence ripped away at a terribly young age. Crime, drugs and violence were real parts of their worlds, and, understandably, it was survival—not school—that was often their main concern.
Here I was—this timid, petite blonde girl who’d been offered opportunity after opportunity throughout her life, expecting these kids to listen and relate to her. Please. Instead, they sensed my inexperience and fear… and, as a result, did anything but respect me. To make matters worse, I had almost no support in my classroom. The administrators had too much on their plates, and the parents were largely absent. I called our security officers for backup constantly, and on a few occasions, even had to stand at the door and scream for help. I’d had four weeks of off-site training before starting my job, but any fool could see that I was vastly unprepared for it.
I have this vivid memory from my first year: I’m standing in the middle of my empty classroom during lunch, dialing my father’s number on my cell phone. A physical fight has just occurred in my room, and I’m shaken. Books and garbage are strewn across the floor. I’m at my breaking point, and physically exhausted. (At night, I’m taking graduate school classes in Brooklyn to fulfill New York’s certification requirements for teachers, and what little “free time” I have left is spent commuting back to my tiny apartment on the Upper East Side, lesson planning and grading. Today, I’m running on about four hours of sleep.) Right as Dad picks up, a brown mouse crawls across a couple of battered novels, and I completely lose it. Absolute hysterics. Poor Dad.
That year was pretty disastrous. I made a zillion mistakes, embarrassed myself on countless occasions, and fostered a chaotic learning environment. I thought about quitting every day, but sometime around May or June during our unit on Elie Wiesel’s Night, I realized that I was just where I was supposed to be. While I was beaten down and worn out, I had survived. And I now had a sense of purpose.
Sure, every day was still a battle, and I was just barely keeping my head above water. But my students were starting to trust me, and they were actually making some gains in writing and reading. From each and every one of my failures, I’d learned something invaluable: how to create a safe, nurturing classroom environment and quickly diffuse dangerous situations; the importance of delivering interesting, engaging and relatable lessons, and why it’s necessary to explain how particular skills will help students both now and later in life; the value in having clear expectations and being tough yet compassionate; how to motivate at-risk teens; the importance of having a sense of humor; and why it’s imperative to get to know students as people… and to open yourself up to them. Needless to say, I couldn’t wait to hit the ground running the following school year. (After a good, long summer of recovery, of course.)
It would be lovely if this story followed the same plot that nearly every inspirational teacher movie does: New Teacher enters school or situation full of hope and new, innovative ideas. New Teacher is up against all odds. New Teacher realizes few people believe in her. New Teacher initially fails. New Teacher tries other methods. Eventually, New Teacher is able to get students to trust her. Students are inspired and motivated. Students learn and succeed. Students teach New Teacher important life lesson. Everybody hugs; the end.
And in some ways, maybe it does.
In the four years that followed, classroom management and teaching became much easier, and I came to love my job. (I actually enjoyed going to work!) Did I make more mistakes? Yes. Did I experience more failure? Yes. Could I have written a book about all the crazy sh*t I witnessed and dealt with? Yes. But I tried not to dwell on the shocking, upsetting and heartbreaking incidents. Instead, I chose to focus on the time my lowest performing class reenacted the trial of Tom Robinson from To Kill a Mockingbird, and passionately deliberated as a jury for an hour and a half without my assistance. Or the time a struggling student outlined and wrote a five-paragraph essay on a theme found in Of Mice and Men. Or the time my kids spent a week perfecting their letters to Holocaust survivors, and cried when they received responses. Or the time I watched a student perform at the Gotham Comedy Club in Manhattan—his ultimate dream. Or the time I sat with my girls, having heart-to-hearts, discussing fashion, helping them set up their own blogs, and letting them do my hair. Or the time I received a grant for Kindles, read The Hunger Games with my students, and then took them to the theaters to see the movie. Or every time I’ve been visited by or received an email from a past student, filling me in on what’s going on in his or her life. I hope I’ve made an impact on the students I’ve taught over the years, because they’ve had a huge impact on me. They’ve taught me so much about the world and myself, and they’ve helped me appreciate all that I’ve been blessed with. Without them, I’d be a very different person than I am today.
But there’s an unexpected plot twist in my teaching story: I don’t want to do it anymore.
Every time I say or type it, a wave of guilt and sadness washes over me. How could I not want to help underprivileged youth anymore? What kind of a person am I to walk away from something that took me so long to get right? Don’t I remember how I used to feel, all cooped up in that cubicle, not making a difference? Who will take care of my kids? How many people am I letting down? But the fact of the matter is that my heart just isn’t in it anymore. And a burnt-out teacher helps no one.
When I first drafted this post, I wrote three full pages on the factors that contributed to my decision to take a break from teaching. But this is a blog, not a book, so I ended up deleting them. On those pages, though, I explained that things really began to spiral out of control for me about two years ago. I talked about the negative school culture, the corruption, the power trips, the hypocrisy, the incompetency, the lack of basic materials, and the loss of creative freedom in the classroom. I talked about how priority was far too often placed on standardized testing and the school’s appearance—and not the students’ academic or emotional wellbeing. I talked about unprofessionalism, and how higher ups seemed unqualified for their jobs. I talked about how an overabundance of paperwork, pointless meetings and tedious data entry tasks ate up my time, and detracted from improving my instruction and my ability to provide extra help to struggling students. I talked about mismanagement of school funds, and how our precious budget was wasted on consultants and curricula that didn’t account for our population’s interests and needs. I talked about the unreasonable expectations placed on teachers and students alike. I talked about how there was a lack of support and appreciation for the people who sacrificed so much to make the school a better place. I talked about how often I was talked down to, and treated like a child. I talked about teachers living their professional lives in fear and how some were even hospitalized as a result of the stress. I talked about spiteful emails and yellow sticky notes with nasty messages on them; constant negative feedback and little constructive criticism. I talked about dishonesty, cheating, illegal activities, and tearing people down instead of building them up. I talked about the consequences that came along with speaking up, how the school was run like a prison, and why so many of our best teachers left in droves. Finally, I talked about how I probably should have switched schools when all of this eventually started to get to me. (Listen, I get it. The city and state were coming down on our school on account of its yearly review; student, parent and teacher surveys; and performance on standardized tests. I won’t pretend that I have some magic solution to all the problems we faced, and I can’t imagine how difficult it is to manage a failing school. But a more upbeat approach would have been helpful.)
The one thing I didn’t talk about? The students. They were a handful, but unquestioningly the best part of my days.
Last year was the hardest year of my life. I was deeply unhappy at work and felt extraordinarily guilty about robbing my students of an actual education. As a result, I suffered with depression and anxiety, and found everyday life to be overwhelming and futile. For those of you who haven’t met me in person, I’m generally very cheerful, positive and easygoing. (So much so that my friends often tease me about it.) But last year, it was as if my flame had flickered and then gone out all together. A black cloud seemed to follow me wherever I went, and the gloom seeped into every facet of my personal life. All of a sudden, I had no interest in the activities that had once brought me great joy. I found it difficult to have conversations with friends and family, and had to exert a crazy amount of effort just to fake my way through social functions that I normally would have enjoyed. I was constantly angry, and I overreacted, lashed out, and cried on a regular basis. I also felt like I wasn’t pulling my weight in my marriage—by far, the most important and wonderful part of my life. All I wanted to do was sit on the couch and stare at the television. Who was this girl with a short fuse and no enthusiasm for life? I didn’t recognize her.
Things were even worse at school. I taught to best of my ability and truly cared for my students, but toward the end, I was brash, impatient, and unwilling to put up with everything else that came along with the job. I skipped meetings that I deemed to be a waste of time, ignored emails and memos I found to be unreasonable and ridiculous, “forgot” to complete mind-numbing paperwork, neglected my classroom, altered lessons that I didn’t have permission to change, and was rude to my superiors when I felt that they had wronged my students or me. When pressed for the reason for my behavior, I said I was just finally sticking up for what I believed in. But when I really think about it, I’d sunk to their level, and I was often defiant just for the sake of being defiant. What was the final straw that drove me to this? I can’t figure that out. And why couldn’t I have handled things differently? I’m not sure. All I can say is that somewhere along the line, I’d shut down and given up.
I almost quit in late March. I came so close that I even told the dean that I likely wouldn’t finish out the year. I took a couple of days off to clear my head, and ended up returning. But I made it clear that I was only there for the students. Less than a month later, Mitch was offered a job in Chicago, and a huge burden was lifted from my shoulders. I couldn’t go back to the Bronx. We were moving. It was out of my control. Still, when I look back on my time there, I’m disappointed in myself and saddened by how it ended. I had so many great experiences there over the years, and yet I allowed negativity to get the best of me at the finish line. I wish I had tried another school, or at least found the strength to go out on a positive note. But just like I learned from my first year of teaching, mistakes bring about growth. And with any hope, I’ll become a better person from my missteps and shortcomings.
Over the summer, I considered applying to the Chicago Public Schools system more than once. I used to love teaching, I reminded myself. I was passionate about it. Surely I could reignite my spark with the help of the right school. But I ultimately decided that I wasn’t ready yet. I was still too angry, too tired, and too defeated.
I remember telling my mother that I’d decided to take a break, and do something else this year: freelance writing, editing and photography; creating custom albums and other printed products; and taking on more blog-related opportunities. Basically, anything that didn’t involve getting reamed out so often. “You need this,” Mom said in support. “You can always go back.”
And she’s right. Maybe in a year’s time, I’ll be good to go, and I’ll truly want to return to the classroom. But for now, I need to work on getting “me” back. I know that the peppy, happy girl I used to be is still somewhere inside. I just need to coax her out.
P.S. – Mitch, who is a much stronger person than I am, is working in the Chicago Public Schools system this year! We’re currently trying to raise money for his classroom, and every dollar we collect is appreciated. Donate to the cause here! (OH MY GOODNESS. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you! Mitch and I are floored by your generosity and thoughtfulness, and can’t get over how quickly the project was completed. For those of you who have asked about how to donate now that the project is closed, here is a new one. Again, thank you!)
Edit: There were many, many amazing people who I worked with during my teaching career in New York. They shouldn’t go unmentioned. They cared so much about the kids, and inspired me daily. I’m forever grateful for the lessons they taught me as well as their guidance, friendship and support. Thank you.
You made the right decision. Thankfully you realized it and decided to recharge. So many don’t do that in all professions and stay at the “job” instead of realizing they are in a career. Teachers everywhere are underappreciated and it sounds like you had it really bad. My ex-teacher friend and I must come to Chicago and buy you a drink one day. :)
Claire, thank you so much. I agree–I definitely stayed in the job for a couple of years too long, afraid (or perhaps too lazy?) to make a big life change. Making the decision to step back was difficult, but I am 100-percent sure it was the RIGHT decision. Thank you for your support–and I would LOVE to get a drink with you and your friend! :) xx
My husband is a public school teacher in a low income, non-parent involved district, albeit not like the Bronx. Over the past few years he’s become a totally different person at home. Not as patient with our boys, easily angered (especially when he first gets home), mostly unhappy. It’s all due to many of the things you spoke about. Public schools have changed so much. He used to love his profession and now finds it to be a burden. I hope he finds a way to love it again. He’s a wonderful teacher…as I’m sure you were.
Kudos to you, Kelly for taking some time for you. You will find what makes you happy. Life is way too short to be angry, sad and just sitting on the couch! :)
Susan, thank you for your response. My heart goes out to you and your husband. Mitch and I talked about this regularly over the years–how much our jobs impact our personal lives and how easily they can change who we are as people. (Often times, for the worse.) Last year, it seemed like every two weeks or so, we’d resolve to be completely different people when we got home, and not talk about work. But that never works, does it? Your profession is part of you, and your daily experiences at work affect you, no matter how hard you try to avoid it.
Mitch and I taught in the same school for five of our seven years there. And I have to say: there’s NO way I would have lasted as long as I did without him. He was my cheerleader, as I was his. When I had a bad day, he listened and let me vent. He was also there to motivate and encourage me, pick me up off the ground, and remind me that I was capable of overcoming whatever I was facing. I did the same for him. (In hindsight, though, maybe we shouldn’t have done this, haha. We often say that perhaps we would have made some changes sooner had we worked in different schools!)
Your husband is lucky to have you. You clearly understand how taxing his job is, yet why it’s so difficult to walk away from it. I’m sure you’re his biggest supporter–and having a supporter is so important. I think the best thing you can do for him is listen to him, which you obviously already do. Listen to what he says and what he doesn’t say. One bad year is one bad year. But if he’s having back-to-back bad years, maybe it’s time for a change. I personally really wish I had tried another school before throwing in the towel altogether. :)
I hope everything works out for him. It takes a VERY special someone to do what he does, and he’s making a difference every day!
xx
Good for you, Kelly. And such a well-written, honest post. It’s easy to stay put and let circumstances ruin you….it’s harder and more courageous to actually leave, make a move, and go forward. Teaching when you were defeated and stressed does no one any good:) Best of luck in this new adventure – I know you will be awesome!
Thank you, Elizabeth! Isn’t it funny how difficult quitting is? I remember when I was in middle school, I DESPERATELY hated being part of a club I’d been in for years. (I didn’t click with the other members. We also went camping a lot, and camping was NOT for me, haha!) My mother had been the club’s leader for years, though, and I was too scared to tell her that I wanted out. Eventually, after at least two years, I finally told her that I couldn’t do it anymore. Her response? “THANK GOD. I HATE THAT CLUB.” Hahaha. I took on some different activities that year, and was much, much happier. I even discovered the joy of photography! I’m trying to remember that right now: that stepping back can be difficult and scary, but change opens doors to new opportunities and happiness. :) Thanks again, Elizabeth!
aw Kel, love this! So happy for you and Mitch :)
PS – we’re thinking about going to the Stanford/Notre Dame game this fall, which means we may be in Chicago for a night – I’ll keep you posted! xo
I LOVE YOU ALI! Oh my goodness. OKAY. What day?! My brother is thinking about coming out for an ND game. Maybe it’s the same one?! (Where do they play? Where the Bears play? Clearly I have no idea what I’m talking about, haha.) Maybe we can all go together! BEST NEWS EVER.
xoxo!!
haha you’re too cute! I don’t know anything about ND… we are Standford fans and thought it would be fun to catch a game in a new city this year :) The game is Oct. 4 in South Bend, ID (90 min from Chicago) – I’ll keep you posted… we may end up going to a game in CA or OR – still working out the dates. Stay tuned! And if we don’t make it for the game, we have already chatted about going to Chicago for a random long weekend for fun :) xoxo
YES! Sounds wonderful. Keep me posted! xoxo!
* Stanford (hubby would be shaking his head)
aw Kel, love this! So happy for you and Mitch :)
PS – we’re thinking about going to the Stanford/Notre Dame game this fall, which means we may be in Chicago for a night – I’ll keep you posted! xo
I’m sure your decision to not go back was an extremely difficult one but it seems like you made the right choice. It’s sad how teachers who truly want to make a difference in children’s’ lives are treated. It’s good to take a break from situations like that though. Your all wouldn’t be in teaching if your still upset about everything that happened. Good luck with your new adventure & maybe something totally different from teaching will inspire you!
Thank you, Krystal! I agree–I wish teachers were treated better. Nearly all of my teacher friends have since left the profession, and they were SO talented. It’s a shame. Something needs to change.
Thank you for your support. :) It means a lot!
Kelly, you. are. awesome. I knew teaching in your situation couldn’t have been easy, but I never knew the extent to which you struggled with the entre situation… it’s really impossible to understand the difficulties that come with a job like that without actually experiencing it. I’m so thankful that there are people like you who are so compassionated and dedicated, and am so excited for you as you begin a new chapter in your life!
xoxo
Jessie, thank you so much for your kind words of support! Over my last year and a half of blogging, I definitely avoided talking about my job. A big part of it was that I couldn’t, as this is a public blog. But another part of it was that I didn’t know how to convey how difficult it was, or how to express my complicated feelings about it. Now that I’m more removed from it, it’s easier to be reflective, and string coherent thoughts together. It’s kind of cathartic to get it all out, though… you know? Thanks for listening, and understanding! I appreciate it so much. Hope Bimba is doing well… Noodle looks more like her everyday! #sistersfromanothermother xoxo!
Love your honesty (one of my favorite things about you as a blogger). It takes a lot of courage to make such a big change, but when you listen to your heart you can’t go wrong! Hope this year gives you happiness and clarity! Can’t wait to keep reading about what you learn (we know you’ll be doing it in style). Best of luck! :)
Gentry, thank you! Happiness and clarity sound GREAT. :) You’re the best!
Your “reasons why I’m not going back” list could have been mine! My stomach turned in a knot just reading about your experiences because I know EXACTLY how you felt! I remember the day a co-worker turned to me and said, “You are different this year.” I cried a least three days a week in the shower and took more “mental health” days than I had in the past five years combined. It takes a lot of courage to be honest with yourself and to make the change that you did. I really believe that things happen the way they are supposed to. If teaching is what truly makes you happy, you will find your way back to it, and a school that is the right fit. Good luck with your new adventure!
Megan, ahhhh! I’m so sorry that you experienced such a similar situation. I had so many people tell me that over the last couple of years, too. It really stung. I didn’t like the person I’d become. Not only was I brash with my superiors, I was also different–and not in a good way–with my students, family and friends. :( I hope that you are doing better this year, and that you’re finding a way to stay true to yourself. Teachers are amazing people! I have so much respect for you. xoxo
I loved how candid you are in this post, Kelly. I grew up in one of the least desirable areas of the city. My high school principal was beat up right outside my classroom one day, the school was arsoned with over a million dollars damage as part of a gang initiation, teachers were often going off on stress leave, leaving us with subs for prolonged periods of time, and my education definitely suffered because of it. I had always done extremely well in high school, but once I got to university, it was like a building came crashing down on top of me. Professors and TA’s were ripping apart everything I wrote or said; the same kind of things that easily got me 95%’s the previous year. I know you are doing this for yourself, but I think it shows how mature and amazing you are at being a teacher to realize when it’s time to step away, instead of making your students suffer. I know you’ll be amazing at whatever you put your mind to, and I’m looking forward to hearing about your adventures!
-Katherine
http://thegreenbows.blogspot.ca
Katherine,
Wow–thank you so much for sharing this. Your story makes my heart hurt.
I hate that students who graduate from high school with high marks from city schools often go to college only to realize that they’re unprepared for what lies ahead. Have you seen this article? http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/education/analysis-90-students-5-bronx-neighborhoods-ready-college-article-1.1190699
While I taught middle school, I definitely saw higher achieving, well-behaved students fall to the wayside over the years, and suffer. (And so many were unprepared for high school once they got there.) I don’t think it’s anyone’s intention to ignore them; it’s just that teachers and staff are so focused on the big problems that we don’t focus enough on the kids who don’t demand the attention. I was guilty of this myself. I’ve had classes in which one or two students demanded 75 percent of my attention at all times. I didn’t want to spend more time on them, but if I hadn’t, things would have become out of control or dangerous. It wasn’t fair to the others. I wish there were better systems in place to help teachers (and students!) in those situations.
I also think my instruction suffered on days that I wasn’t “all there.” I wasn’t one to take a ton of mental health days, but sometimes I wonder if I should have taken more. But like you said–subs aren’t helpful. I mean, once in a while, you get an AMAZING one. But let’s be serious. Most of the time they’re just babysitting. :( I think it’s clear that for the sake of my students, I should have stepped away two years ago. I wish I had done it sooner.
I’m so sorry that your experience in college has been a difficult one. I’m incredibly impressed by your blog, and your dedication to catching up. It can be overwhelming, I know. Keep striving for greatness!
Thanks again, Katherine. :) xoxo
Thank you for writing this post. Having just started a job in education, I was wondering if you were going to teach again this year. Too many burnt-out teachers go on teaching, and you made a good choice. Teachers should be able to take a sabbatical – other than summer break!
Also, teaching in a different school could be very different! But I hope this year is much less stressful for you, and that you find a path that fits you :)
Thank you, Caroline! Definitely. Right now, I’m completely burnt out. But I hope that in the future, I will return to the profession in some form. And you’re right–a different school could totally be the answer. Thanks for your support, and good luck with your new job! Keep that chin up! :)
We’ve talked about this before, but I hope you know that I totally respect your decision and think it was the right one for you. The fact that you put together three pages of reasons that you needed to do this should be enough validation, but I know that it’s not easy. The line that sticks with me is when you say that a burnt out teacher serves no one, and that is totally right. It’s also super important to take a step back and figure out what makes you happy. That’s what I’ve been doing for the past 8 months or so, and it hasn’t been easy…but it’s been worth it. I hope this rambling paragraph makes sense, but in sum: good for you! Sending hugs from NYC!
xo
Sam
I think the main lesson is: don’t do anything NYC subway placards tell you to do! But since you did, in your open, trusting (and clearly non-NYC-native way), you learned invaluable lessons about the real world. And by sticking with it for many years, you gathered insights on the upside and downside of being conscientious in a flawed system. I hope that by synthesizing your experiences, enjoying Noodle, and exploring Chicago, you continue on the path you feel passionately about. And keep writing about it. :)
Aileen, RIGHT?! Haha. No, in all seriousness, the New York City Teaching Fellows program is AMAZING. I should have stressed that more. It’s placed so many talented, inspiring and motivated new teachers in classrooms that needed them, and it’s brought about great change in the New York City public school system. And honestly–I’m not sure how any more training could have prepared me for what I experienced in the BX, you know? NYCTF did a really good job.
You’re right–I certainly learned a lot about the real world, and I gained some perspective. (And street smarts!) Thanks so much for the support. It’s appreciated more than you know! :)
xoxo!
Sam, you are the sweetest. Thank you. Haha–Oh my goodness. Those three pages were such a mess. When I read them back over to myself, I was kind of like, “Ummmm. You need help, girl.” At the same time, though, the sheer number of of reasons I came up with was validation enough.
It’s so nice to hear that while the last eight months have been difficult, you know that you made the right choice. It’s scary not knowing what the future holds, but choosing happiness–or at least having a chance at happiness–is clearly the right choice. :)
Hope all is well in New York, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t get a chance to see you before I left! I’ll be back this fall… Hopefully we can get together. :)
xoxo!
I LOVE Donorschoose and I’m so glad that Mitch’s project was funded so quickly ;)
Kelly – Thank you so much for sharing your journey. It was “funny” when I read how you started to feel at work towards the end and I can relate to those emotions. Although, I am not a teacher and did not have a similar environment, I think I have had a similar experience of loosing myself in the requirements of my job and loosing my passion for life. I hope that this year allows you to find yourself again! :D I know I will be doing the same. Thank you again for sharing your journey – it makes me feel like I am not alone!! Emily
Emily,
I appreciate your comment so much. It’s comforting to hear that people can relate to the feelings I experienced, as I felt so very alone at the time. Thank you for your kind words, and I hope that you are happier this year as well! Life’s too short to stay stuck in a negative situation, right? While I wish I’d taken action sooner, it’s nice to finally be on the mend. :) Thanks again, Emily!
Hi Kelly…I am Claire Brock’s retired teacher friend :) For the past year, I have been reading and enjoying your blog. We may not be the stereotypical follower’s, but find that we have many similiar interests. We have daughter’s your age, we LOVE dogs, love your fashion styling… special fondness for shoes/bags, LOVE Chicago and NYC, and love that your are such an incredible writer!!! Congratulations on the move, and your decision to step-aside and re-evaluate career.
Jan, thank you for dropping a line! I’m so sorry that it took me a while to respond. (Somehow only half of my Disqus comments saved last time?! Sheesh, haha.) Thank you so much for reading… I really appreciate your words of support! We have so much in common! Hopefully one day we can meet in person. :) xoxo!
Have been following (and LOVING!) your blog for some time now and have always appreciated how open you are with your followers. Having been in a similar situation fairly recently – public sector job, oodles of bureaucracy and ZERO support/appreciation – it took actually becoming physically ill to pull myself up by the boot straps and say that it is no longer worth it. Best of luck to you (and Mitch) on your new endeavors in Chicago.
Yasmina, how sweet are you?! Thank you. I’m so sorry that you were in a rough situation as well. Isn’t it amazing how long it often takes to realize that you need to make a change? Looking back on my experience, I can’t believe I waited this long. But no regrets… :) Thanks again, Yasmina. :)
Kelly, congratulations for being brave! I’m a high school teacher who loves her job, but has found myself increasingly burned out over the years. It’s not the kids, but the parents, the administrators, and the endless rounds of newer, “better” high-stakes testing each year. My kids can’t keep up with it, and neither can I. Rather than feel encouraged, I am continually told that I can’t be trusted to teach what matters and follow the standards set forth by the state/core curriculum/whatever-newest-latest-greatest system in play this year. I must “prove” my effectiveness with numbers, not evaluations of my teaching practices, lesson plans, or student work. Teacher evaluation expects us to churn out results based on testing that evaluate student achievement (not fair, not a good reflection of student growth). It’s just such an assault to morale, and it seems to get worse each year. I have thought about quitting many times over the last couple of years, but it always comes down to this one thought: I don’t want to do anything else. I want to talk about great literature with kids. When it’s just me and my kids in my classroom, I still love this job. But, I congratulate you on being able to take the leap. I eventually see it for myself; I’m just not there yet. Best wishes this year! I hope the time away heals you and restores you. You surely deserve the break.
Brandi,
Thank you so much for this kind comment! I’m terribly sorry that I am only responding now. I don’t know how this happened, but only half of my Disqus responses were saved… Again, so sorry!
Anyway, it’s so sad how many teachers get burnt out, isn’t it? And I totally agree–more often than not, the reason behind it is NOT the kids. I felt the same way… constantly discouraged, and like I was the enemy. Every year, there was some new curriculum or teaching method that I had to put into place without sufficient training or materials… and then I was reprimanded and punished for not executing it properly.
Your comment about talking literature with your kids really hit home for me. I LOVED that part. It was what kept me there for so long. Sadly, I wasn’t allowed to teach literature or novels in my last few years in the Bronx. It was heartbreaking, as I saw my kids come alive during novel studies. But it’s not about the kids anymore… :(
So sorry to hear that you too are struggling in the profession. But I admire you so much for staying, and continuing to better lives. Teaching is such an admirable profession, and it takes a very strong person to do it in this country today. Let me know how this year goes for you… I’d love to keep in touch! Thanks again, Brandi. :)
Such an honest post Kelly, you put so much effort into teaching those past few years and sometimes you just lose your passion for something you once loved. It’s not a bad thing, it just means it’s time to focus your passions and create magic elsewhere. So happy that you were able to start over in Chicago– I hope you find plenty of happiness there and you can regain that positive easy-going personality fully that I see so much when I read your blog daily. I wish you lots of luck with your new adventures!
Alex
http://www.monstermisa.blogspot.com
Alex, you are the sweetest. Thank you — this meant so much to me. :) I’m so glad that we have become friends, and I’m lucky to have you! :)
Kelly, I’m a first time reader and how glad I am that I stumbled upon this particular post first. You clearly care for your students so much, but you’ve made the right decision. There comes a point where you need to put yourself first, both for selfish reasons and to serve a greater good. Enjoy your year of finding yourself again – I’ll be along for the ride. xx
Girl for Granted
Thank you, Amy! I can’t wait to check out your blog. Your encouragement means a lot to me… Thank you for taking the time to drop a note. :)
I hear you! nothing is worse than feeling burnt out by your job. Enjoy your time off, your exploring & your new ventures. Wishing Mitch the best with his new school.
Thank you, Melissa! Yes… To new adventures! :) I’ll be sure to pass on your kind message to Mitch :)
Hi Kelly,
I just wanted to offer my support with your decision. I am a teacher in Toronto and completely understand some of the difficulties you faced over the years. It is definitely not an easy job! I’m sorry to hear about the depression and anxiety you have been going through and I sincerely hope that you will find your inner joy again soon. I think that taking some time off to focus on things you love is the best decision. Teaching is always something you can go back to, but your top priority right now should be bringing back your spark and enthusiasm for life.
Wishing you all the very best as you begin a new chapter in your life.
Sending my love and well wishes,
Joanna
Hi Joanna,
So nice to hear from you! Thank you for taking the time to read this, and for writing such a kind note. I love hearing from other teachers. I hope that you are happy in your teaching job in Toronto, and that you feel supported. My husband and I are hoping to visit Toronto (for the first time!) this year, so I’d love to keep in touch about things to do and see!
Thanks again, Joanna. I appreciate your message more than you know!
It takes a lot of strength to admit that you need a break. You’re easily one of my favorite bloggers because of how genuine you are, and I truly appreciate how you share that with your readers. I know you’ll do great things in your time off and will unwind and regather to tackle whatever you put your mind to next!
Lauren,
Thank you! That truly means a lot to me. I’m so glad to have connected with you this year. Again, thank you for your support and encouragement. :) xoxo
Kelly, I absolutely loved reading this post because it reminds me that teachers are humans too! I am getting ready to begin my (middle school) student teaching placement in a few weeks and while I won’t face the inner city challenges in this placement that you did during your time in the Bronx, I am still very nervous! Last semester I was placed at an inner city school for my practicum and it was completely eye opening. It made me realize that teachers circumstances vary vastly by their location. I definitely think you made the right decision by taking a year off. Teaching is one of those professions that require 110% passion at all times, and I admire your ability to realize that your heart wasn’t fully in it right now. I hope you’re enjoying Chicago! One of my all time favorite cities :)
Hollie,
It’s very nice to hear from you! Thank you for taking the time to drop a line. I really hope I didn’t scare you off… I don’t have any regrets about becoming a teacher… Teaching is such an admirable profession, and it had such a profound and positive impact on my life. I just wish I had switched schools along the way. (You’re right… I think it really does vary from location to location!)
Wishing you the best of luck as you embark on your new journey. Please keep in touch! If you ever need someone to talk to during your first year, I’m here. :) My email is KellySLarkin@gmail.com :)
Thanks again, girl! Good luck! :)
This is so refreshing to hear, Kelly! There really are a solid amount of teachers who seem to have lost the spark they once had and it shows in their students. I don’t really believe that everyone is meant to stay on one path for the rest of their lives. Different passions come along (or some die down) so I wish you the best in the next chapter of your life! As someone who is manoeuvring her way through education (after a few drastic changes), I can say that this piece really is wonderful to read :)
http://undergradgoods.blogspot.ca/
WOW, this article was very inspiring and touching. I’m not a teacher but I can definitely relate to your feeling of defeat, depression and anxiety. Thank you for sharing and thank you for what you did for those kids. I’m not sure if you realize it, but many of them you got through to will always remember that connection you fought so hard for and it will forever affect their lives in a positive way. You did great and I’m glad you’re in a much better place now! xo
I can relate to this on SO many levels. I, too, had a job a few years ago where I was managing students and helping to guide them when I realized it just wasn’t for me – my heart wasn’t in it anymore. I struggled with the guilt for leaving that job and knowing I wasn’t giving it my all at the end – but I kept telling myself that I have to take decisions for me. I can’t take care of and guide others if I don’t make sure my state of being is okay, first! Thank you for sharing ♡
I remember reading this post when I was just at the beginning of my career in education, working as a teaching assistant. I’m now in my second year a a certified teacher (and teaching in a Title I district) and Kelly, I GET it. Anyone who’s heart’s not in it anymore should try something different. Teaching is a hard job.
Looking forward to reading your update next week!
I just came across this and it resonates so strongly with my own experience! I taught for four years before getting pregnant, but I couldn’t have made it a fifth even if I wasn’t planning to stay home with my daughter. After a couple of years away, I have found my way back to a non-traditional teaching environment (teaching online classes for a charter school), and I am so happy to be back in it – but I still struggle with the guilt of not going back to do “the hard part.” When you allow yourself to re-find joy in your life, though, it is so worth it – as I’m sure you have discovered in the past 5 years!
I remember somehow stumbling upon your post about teaching when I taught at an inner city school in my town in Florida. It may not be exactly the same but from all your stories, it sounds SO similar!!! This post was one of the main reasons I truly connected with you!
I was hired two days before school started. Had no formal classroom training and had no stepped into a classroom in over 10 years. I had 0 idea what I was in for and so naive. Which at the time was probably a good thing. My kids all hated me at first, were incredibly rude and made sure to let me know exactly what the did no like about me. They were from a completely different culture and background than me. How as I supposed to relate to them!?
Slowly but surely they gained my trust. We started being able to joke, I eventually learned classroom management, I taught them how to sew (only a few of them stabbed each other with needles) and we cooked tons of food! The first few months were awful and I wanted to quit everyday. I cried all the time. But I am so glad I didn’t!
As rewarding as it was, it didn’t come without it’s difficulties. I also broke up fights, would have screaming and crying fits weekly, was cussed at so many times, insulted, talked back to and sooo on. Those things never stopped but I changed. I improved and I grew and so did all the kiddoes. Teachers are some of the hardest workers I know!