Hello dear readers,
I remember when I received an offer to transfer to a different middle school just this past February. I had been incredibly frustrated with administration problems and was, to be honest, tired of having to work in the same building as my ex-boyfriend. Two years of no conversation, icy and judgmental stares from his end, and inappropriate gossip (also from his end) that had been spread to the staff (luckily, no one believed his story) was enough for me to say I’m out.
A new middle school was projected to open in the county I teach in for the 2021-2022 school year. I submitted my application for transfer, and soon enough, I was asked to interview for a history position. The interview, really, felt more like an easy conversation - when I was asked to discuss about a proud moment as a teacher, I excitedly talked about Lisa and I taking our History Club in the fall of 2019 to lay a wreath at Arlington National Cemetery’s Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - and the next day, I received an offer from HR to teach combined 7th grade US History II and Language Arts.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about the split curriculum, as I believed I was interviewing only for a history position (Language Arts, of course, is my second passion). My mom encouraged me reach out to the principal and ask about the split position before I decided. He was extremely gracious and full of helpful answers, and with his promise that once enrollment numbers increased the second year the school was open that I would only teach history, I gladly accepted the offer! Lisa also interviewed and received an offer. As nervous as I was at the idea of moving to a new school and having to begin again, I knew that having a fresh start would be (of course) challenging, but welcomed. Since it was a new school, every staff member would be no better or worse off than me - we were all at square one. At least I knew Lisa would still be by my side!
I shared my good news to my colleagues once my acceptance became official on my new school’s Twitter feed. I was thrilled to finally say, after two years of trying to make it happen: I’m leaving. What a mic-drop worthy moment that was when I told administration about my plans for the new school year!
As the final months of my term dwindled, I started feeling more bittersweet about my decision. My colleagues, even teachers whom I rarely encountered on a daily basis, stopped by my room and told me how much I was going to be missed. And their well-wishes sounded genuine, you know? They weren’t the generic oh, good luck to you, we’ll miss you messages. I didn’t think I’d made that much of an impact at my school (administration not appreciating my efforts made me truly believe I was replaceable), but based by how many people were taking time out of their day to stop by and say something kind...I guess I was mistaken. The fact that, during the Year of COVID, they risked social distancing to visit my classroom and tell me that my presence...my cheerful demeanor, sparkling and optimistic eyes (yes, this was verbatim commentary from a colleague!) and never-fading smile...was going to truly be missed.
If they only knew how much I faked that smile during most of the school day. These colleagues, making these lovely comments, were definitely not teachers who were close enough to me to know about my struggles with anxiety and depression...and the fact that I still see a therapist.
I, however, simply smiled back and thanked each person who came by to spread some positive vibes.
My history nerd team (Lisa, and our “work dad,” Keith - we kept our fourth Musketeer, Thomas, in the loop through group chat while he was on active duty this past year) knew the truth behind my fake smile and positive demeanor - they were aware of my more personal reasons to transfer. Lisa, of course, was also saddened at leaving our school, but her reasons were not fueled by a broken heart. She had more reason to be frustrated by the administration than me. She wasn’t quite as torn up by the transfer, then, as I was.
Keith was devastated that “his girls” were seeking greener pastures, but both he and Thomas were thrilled that a better change had been bestowed on us. Lisa and I were going to miss Keith terribly - he was, really, the main reason we didn’t want to leave, so we decided to get him a “parting” gift (as if he could quit us; he lives in Lisa’s neighborhood and I saw him quite a few times this summer). Keith, though, because he is probably the sweetest person in existence, had a similar thought and gave us parting gifts on the last day of school.
Lisa: I’m not crying, you’re crying!
The prospect of leaving my ex behind, for good, certainly outweighed all the emotions I was feeling about saying goodbye to the school I started my career at - it was time to move on with my life.
I remember I made a Spotify playlist, filled with songs about farewells and accepting change (and accepting our past mistakes) a couple of days after I accepted the offer - when it truly hit me that I was leaving! One song particularly resonated with my feelings after I had processed my new life change - (so much in that the lyrics are the title of this post) - Supergrass’s underrated hit, “St. Petersburg,” from their 2005 album, Road to Rouen. I added the song to the playlist, and once a day, during my drive to work, I listened to it, relating more and more to the lyrics as the time came closer for me to say goodbye to my final year at that school.
I mean, when I accepted the new position, it was more like in one hundred days I’ll be out of here, but hey! It was the sentiment of the song - and not a day too soon - that I could identify with. Three days, a hundred days...it didn’t matter. It was time to go as soon as my contract ended.
June 8th, 2021 - three days before my last school day on the 11th - you bet I blasted “St. Petersburg” during my morning commute. My three day mark had finally arrived.
But if I could’ve left on that three day mark, I totally would have.
I spent all summer, trying to fall in love again (and failing miserably - and I am not surprised), visiting my friends, cat sitting Patton, Pershing, and Millie whenever my parents went out of town, getting interior improvements done at my house, eating all the ice cream at my local ice cream place, in and out of the hospital and many doctor’s offices for follow-up appointments, teaching summer school (ca$h $$$), going to a post-COVID concert (Green Day and Weezer with Lisa...could it get any better? Rivers Cuomo, is the man, by the way!), growing closer with God and reading more scripture, and daydreaming about my first day I’d be allowed to set up my literally sparkling brand-new classroom.
That day finally arrived a couple of weeks ago on Monday August 9th.
And it still smelled brand-new as I eyed every empty wall - a blank canvas just waiting for me transform into art...so I could make it my cozy home away from home. Out came all my history and literature posters from storage, many many Command poster strips, pocket laminator, glue gun, and my trusty Cricut, armed with fresh rolls of vinyl and my amazing collection of cardstock. I went in to school, before the work week started, to begin my decorating. My mom even came in with me one day to help me organize all the supplies she’d gifted me after she retired from teaching at the end of the COVID school year. She was so impressed by the state-of-the-art building and technology. You could see the pride in her eyes - my daughter gets to cultivate her career here - as we walked around the school. It felt amazing (and reassuring) that at least one of my parents is genuinely thrilled with the life choices I have made so far.
I promised myself, after the guy from the previous post left me, that I would (as I usually did after a heartbreak) dedicate my energies even more to my career. What did he matter, really, I kept asking myself as I lovingly arranged each poster to the walls. He can go ahead and hate me, I said, as I tacked twinkle lights to one of my dry erase boards to make it look more festive. Let him be happy with someone who can give him what he wants, I repeated out loud as I ran Cricut project after Cricut project with my MacBook. My true love of teaching and learning had never abandoned me - it shaped me into the weird and awkward girl I am now, and I’m not ashamed. I hope, should I ever fall in love again, that the man I meet will understand that my passion and heart truly do belong to teaching. I felt safe, once again, ensconced my little classroom corner of the world, ready to embark on my fresh start. I deserved a fresh start, and there it was, literally staring me back in my face in the form of a newly constructed classroom.
Desks and chairs have been arranged, my technology has been plugged in, (my new docking station is incredible) although I’m still waiting for my new SMART Board to be configured by our IT guy, the teacher work week ended just this past Friday with so much food (seriously, a breakfast or lunch was provided every day!), new school swag (I lost count of how many t-shirts I was given), tons of positive energy, and, of course, socialization with my new colleagues (although, I will admit, I have stayed by Lisa’s side throughout the entire time...she also, like Keith, can’t quit me), and most importantly, my classroom is ready for my new students.
My anxiety is rising, only because it has been a long time since I’ve actually, you know “teachered.” I haven’t been in front of more than six students in a physical classroom since March of 2020. What is classroom management now in a post-Zoom only world, I ask you? Nervous is an understatement, but I met some of my students and their families at our Welcome Back event during the work week. I loved seeing the excitement and joy in their eyes at the prospect of returning to a regular school year...especially in such a stunning new building.
So, yeah. I’m nervous, but in the best way possible.
This is God’s plan, unfolding right before my eyes. Maybe I still don’t get to have the opportunity to fall in love and start my family. Having the chance to open a new school, with my best friend at my side, teaching my favorite topics, and working for an administration who truly treats us like a family? I can’t take my life for granted right now. Sure, like I said last time, the shoe dropped in my love life when he finally decided to leave me. Maybe this new school thing is too good to be true, but then again, would God really drop another shoe and want me to be unhappy in both my personal and professional life? Can we really have it all?
I’d like to hold onto hope that one day, I can have a fair balance of a fulfilled personal and professional life. Sacrifices must always be made, but I know I’m willing to be flexible should I have to choose having a family over my career. A supportive husband, though, would allow me to have both, if I truly wanted to be a working mother. For now, I don’t have to think of that possibility. I’m a long way from a marriage, let alone having a child. I get to focus on being the best version of me. I will continue to fight my anxiety and depression waves. I will nurture my teaching career. I will regain my strength, get more answers to my fertility questions, and start my physical therapy in September so I can have more energy to be on my feet all day and fit in exercise. I will, most importantly, strengthen my relationship with my faith and take care of myself.
