I resigned from my dream job.
I resigned from my dream job. Two things happened that prompted this change. First, I showed up for my 9 year old daughter’s Parent-Teacher conference in October and her teacher had no idea who I was. Second, I turned 40. The combo hit me like a 1–2 punch in the gut.
I spent the last 20 years of my life building a career in education — first as a classroom teacher, then grad student who earned a masters & doctorate in ed leadership, next as an adjunct professor, then as a policy analyst. For the past five years, I worked as Director of a leading education consulting firm — a job that created amazing opportunities to work alongside some of my greatest mentors, learn from educators across the country and share what I was learning in dozens of reports, guides and a few books. I have truly dedicated my life’s work to education. So how in the actual hell did my own daughter’s teacher not know who I was?!
Staring down the big 4–0 as a good excuse for some soul-searching, I drove home the day that happened and literally asked myself aloud, “Is this who I am?”. It only took me a couple seconds to answer the question, but it took me a couple months to find the courage to make a change.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the question I’m most frequently asked (after “You did WHAT?!” and “Are you having a midlife crisis?”) is “What are you doing next?”. Truth is, I honestly have no clue. That’s freaking terrifying and invigorating at the same time. I gave myself a month to slow down and see what happens.
Yesterday I spent hours in my daughter’s Kindergarten classroom helping the teacher by laminating and cutting out a gazillion picture cards and labels. The smell of the laminator took me immediately back to the days I was the classroom teacher thanking the parent who spent her morning doing my busy work. The poetry in that made me smile.
Today I woke up, set some personal bests running sprint intervals, sang at the top of my lungs to Cloud Cult in the shower then decided I needed to write this blog while my lunch baked in the oven. I can tell you I certainly didn’t know when I woke up this morning that I’d be sharing all this publicly. And maybe I won’t actually hit “publish” after all. If I do, know that it’s because I’m willing to bet I’m not the only person who either just took a leap into the great unknown or is reading this with her toes wiggling over the edge of the cliff looking for the courage. We can do hard things. And those hard things are worth doing.
It’s Day Two of the month my friends are referring to to as my “sabbatical” and my “month of refreshing and reflecting.”
I’m surprised at what I’ve learned about myself already. Turns out, I make a pretty badass coconut curry butternut squash soup. I remember how to meditate. I can run faster now that I could when I was 20. I can’t go more than 48 hours without writing (hey, it’s what I do). I can perfectly time a podcast for two pickups in two car lines at two different schools. And maybe I didn’t resign from my dream job after all.
So here’s to leaps. And acts of vulnerability. And gut-punching moments that inspire a course-correction. And gratitude for dreams that were fulfilled and new ones that haven’t yet materialized. And more homemade soup.
