So, what are you supposed to do when you realize that you
need a new career? I had wanted to
be a teacher since the days when I played school with my stuffed animals. I
have a Bachelor’s degree in Elementary Education and Special Education, a Master’s
degree in Elementary Education, and I am a National Board Certified teacher. I
won Teacher of the Year at my school 4 years ago. And yet, by September of my
13th year of teaching, the thought of stepping foot into a classroom
made me physically ill. How did this happen?
When I had once spent my time scouring Pinterest for
classroom resources, I found myself searching for ways to make money at home. I
like the feeling of accomplishment that comes with work. But this year it
became clear that I had lost the desire for my work to involve grading papers,
lesson plans, faculty meetings, parent conferences, and classroom management. I
was beyond burnt out. And worse than that, I didn’t know what I wanted to do
instead, which is a foreign feeling for me.
I am the type of person who has always known what I wanted.
I knew from an early age that I was going to be a teacher. As I said above, I
used to play school with my stuffed animals, reading to them, and putting
stickers on their “work”. If only it were really that simple.
I had a vision for myself: I would go to college, get my
degree in education, teach for a few years, and end up getting my doctorate so
that I could finish my teaching career in higher education. I was right on
track, too. I started my career teaching second grade at the grade school I attended
as a child. I then got hired at one of the top public schools in the state,
where I had been teaching for the past 11 years. During that time I graduated
Summa Cum Laude with a Master of Sciences degree in Elementary Education, and
obtained my National Board Certification. As I said before, my colleagues
elected me Teacher of the Year, and two years ago, Educational Horizons Magazine published an article I wrote and
asked me to lead a webinar for them. It’s been a teaching career to be proud
of. But pride doesn’t mean anything if you’re not happy.
The unhappiness didn’t just happen one day; it’s been
building over the years. It started with the seemingly impossible demands of
new standards and state testing. Then I had a particularly difficult year with students’
parents, in which I felt nothing I did was good enough. Last year was the
tipping point. Despite having a wonderful class, supportive parents, a team I
loved, and getting to teach alongside my best friend, I still wasn’t happy. I
thought what I needed was to move on from the classroom. I applied for several
teacher coaching jobs and Reading Recovery positions, disheartened to not even
get an interview. I began to wonder why I had worked so hard to build a glowing
resume. Then a special education job opened up at my school, and although I had
never taught it before, my principal gave me the opportunity to interview for
it.
When she called to offer me the job, I felt like I had a
chance to start a new chapter in my career. I romanticized what it would be
like to work with small groups of learners and collaborate with them in their
classrooms. But the reality was nothing like I thought it would be. I had never
dreaded going to work before this job. I had never cried about work before, but
I was crying all the time. I had never pulled into the parking lot and felt
nauseous about entering the school building, but that is how I felt everyday
this past school year. I didn’t see my students progressing the way I hoped
they would and it felt like I was failing them. The severity and
unpredictability of some of their behaviors scared me, and the legality of
their Individual Education Plans was weighing on me. On top of it all, I felt
guilty for feeling these feelings. I was a mess.
I kept looking for other jobs. I went to visit other schools
that had openings I thought I might be interested in. But the whole time I was
touring these schools, I felt uneasy and couldn’t wait to leave. Not a good
sign. The truth is, it wasn’t my school that I needed to leave; I loved my
school and the people in it. It took me a while to realize it, but somewhere
along the way, I lost my passion. And you simply cannot be an effective teacher
without passion. Moreover, I am not a person who can just go through the
motions and collect a paycheck. So what was I supposed to do now?
First, I had to accept the fact that my time as an
elementary educator was over. I had to mourn the loss of my identity as a
teacher. It was sad and scary. Was everything I had accomplished over the years
a waste? What about my retirement? Would I be considered a failure? With so
many questions and not many answers, I felt lost. But at the same time, I began
to also feel a bit of relief. As daunting as it was to say goodbye to teaching
elementary students, in doing so, it felt like I had opened myself up to a
world of possibilities. I don’t regret becoming a special education teacher; it
gave me a newfound respect for special educators, and ultimately gave me the motivation
to move on.
It was time for a revision of my vision. As I said before, I
always saw myself getting my doctorate and teaching at the college level. I
knew I wasn’t ready for all of that just yet, but being back on a college
campus sounded wonderful.
I had been volunteering as a career mentor to students
majoring in Education at my undergraduate alma mater for the past three years,
and I really enjoyed it. I met with my friend, who is also the director of the
mentoring program, and he helped me brainstorm some next steps for getting a
position in higher education. With my sights set on working in admissions,
alumni relations, or academic advising, I began scouring the employment
opportunity web pages of all the local colleges.
After three applications that failed to result in interviews,
I found it: my new career. My graduate alma mater was looking to fill three
academic advisor positions, and the second I saw that, it was like a heavenly choir
started singing and a ray of light was shining down on my phone. As cliché as
it may sound, I really felt that it was meant to be. Every step of the way,
from the application, to the interview, I just had a notion that this is where
I was supposed to be. When I got the call that they wanted to offer me the
academic advisor position in the School of Business, an immediate feeling of
euphoria washed over me.
But as thrilled as I was to begin this new career, it wasn’t
easy to leave my students and colleagues, especially in the middle of a school
year. I felt incredibly guilty, like I was abandoning my students and
teammates. I was sad to leave my friends, and scared to leave the only job I
had known for over a decade. Nevertheless, I knew I really wasn’t good to any
of them if I wasn’t happy.
And I am very HAPPY to say that after three months as an
academic advisor, I absolutely made the right move. I love what I do. I look
forward to going to work each day. I enjoy helping college students map out
their journeys to graduation. I have wonderful, supportive colleagues, and I am especially fortunate to have made good friends with the other two advisors that were hired
at the same time I was. Also, I love my office (that’s right, MY OFFICE with a
big, beautiful window). Additionally, this position will afford me the
opportunity to work on my doctorate and to teach at the college level. I will
note that I did take a pay cut with my new job, but I don’t believe you can put
a price on happiness. And I feel happier and healthier than I have in a long
time.
I’m so grateful to my family and friends who supported me
along the way; without them, I don’t think I would have had the courage to make
this change that I so desperately needed.
I wrote this post in an effort to explain why I left the
classroom, to reflect on how my life transformed this year, and to
encourage anyone who is considering a career change. Do it. The majority of
your time each week is spent at work, and you deserve to spend that time being
happy. Yes, change can be scary, but spending any second of your precious life
being miserable is even scarier. In my experience, change isn’t just good; change is great.
