It’s Time for this Teacher to Walk Away

Maria Chapman
Nov 4 · Unlisted

I’ve Never Truly Loved my Career

For 13 years I have identified, in part, as a teacher. It’s how the world sees me. I began working as a fifth grade teacher at age 24. At 30 I became a literacy specialist working in the same district. I’ve spent the last 13 years researching best practices, implementing them, and reflecting on the results.

I was effective as a fifth grade teacher, and as a literacy coach I am even better. I enjoy building relationships with teachers, and helping both veteran and novice teachers excel at reading instruction. I love researching how the brain learns to read, and hungrily scoop up anything I can about dyslexia remediation. I feel intense pleasure when a second grader who wasn’t able to read tells me that because of the instruction they get with my reading staff, they can read now, and that their reading lesson is the best part of their day.

Even though I enjoy what I do, and am successful at it, it’s never been my passion.

If I like all of those pieces of my job so much, why am I throwing dynamite at my career? Even though the world sees me as a teacher, that isn’t, and never has been, how I see myself. I sort of fell into working in education after giving up on what had always been my dream due to some bad, unsolicited advice from well-meaning family members. When my colleagues stay at work for hours after the final bell grading papers and adjusting lesson plans, I’m running out the door to get home as fast as possible. When my coworkers are spending their own money for classroom supplies as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I’m reserving every ounce of my paycheck for my own family. I refuse to let working in education steal me or my resources from my family, because I just don’t love being an educator the way they do.

I am not as committed as my coworkers. I am a good employee, and I work hard at every task I’m given while I’m at work. But at home? No way. I am a mother first. Earlier this year my work began to steal me away from my kids. For a while I let it. Now I’m digging in my heels and demanding that I’m available to give my all to the children in my family, rather than worrying incessantly about children from other people’s families.

The pain that woke me up

When I had to stop my children from hugging me because it just hurt too much, something inside me broke.

In May 2019 I began to experience intense, sharp pain in my neck and down my right shoulder. I took Advil and ignored it like every other full time teacher with kids of her own. A week later my right arm was numb, and the pain was causing me to tear up while driving to work, or anytime I was required to sit at a computer. I was in such incredible pain that I was completely wiped out by the time I made it home each day. When my children wanted me to read stories, I couldn’t bend my head down to look at the pages. I had to tell them I couldn’t play catch in the yard, or take them to the park. God forbid I do any extra driving, then I might not be able to make it to work the next day! And, I had to get to work.

I didn’t love my job. I liked it, but it wasn’t a driving passion for me. That’s an admission that is hard for me to make, and one that would certainly shock my supervisors. Yet, here I was letting it steal what was left of me from my children. I was giving up time with my children for a career I didn’t love.

A Voice of Reason

My voice of reason.

Through all of this, my husband was a voice of reason. “Quit your job.” He told me over and over again. “I’ll support us, we can cut back on spending and figure it out.” “Do something else, something that’s less stressful.” Jim would plead when I was crying at night because the pain wouldn’t allow me to sleep. I realize that having a spouse that is so supportive, and being in a position where I can stop working temporarily if I need to is a luxury not everyone has. I am so grateful to my husband for this support. But, I still ignored his pleas.

I assured Jim that I’d use the summer to get myself pain free and back to normal. And it worked, almost. After 4 months of physical therapy and three rounds of prednisone I was able to drive short distances, and play with my kids again.

Then, the school year started. Within a few weeks I found myself telling my three year old that Daddy had to do bedtime stories because I just couldn’t. My nine year old would start to ask me to play a board game, and stop because he knew the angle of my head while playing a game would hurt. I was having panic attacks, and sobbing during my lunch breaks. I was doing it again.

Finally, A Decision

I still haven’t quit my job. I still haven’t figured out the neck pain that is now affecting other parts of my body. I’ve developed an autoimmune issue as well. I’ve got a team of doctors working on it, though, and if they don’t come up with an answer I’ll keep searching. It’s November and I am on a reduced schedule FMLA leave right now while I try to figure out how to fix my health issues. I’m not going back to working in education full time. I’m exploring other options, but, if I don’t find one, I’ll still quit my job.

I’m not letting my career steal me from my children. Bedtime stories and board games are more important. Sometimes I tell my husband that I don’t know what I want to do next, that I’m not sure I’m good at anything else. He invariably responds by admonishing my imposter syndrome, and asserting that I’m “good at anything I decide to be good at.”

So, I’ve decided to find something else to be good at. While I’m looking I’m going to work on being good at taking care of myself.

Unlisted

Maria Chapman

Written by

Writer | Educator | Mother | Wife | Fitness | Chronic Illness | Social Change | Mental Health

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