I’ve alluded to it but I’ll just come out and say it. I quit. This is my last week of teaching. This is my last week of enlightening (or, rather, attempting to enlighten) my high school kids. This is my last week of obsessing over the perfect lesson plans, worrying about how I can reach that one particular student, fretting over keeping up with things like putting grades in the electronic grade book or the always awkward parent/teacher conferences or even the pleasure of joking around with my kids all day. I’m finished.
I’m grateful that I’m not jaded. I LOVE my job. Like a lot. And I probably love my kids more than a teacher should. But, the thing is that I’m a mommy now. (I have become more comfortable with saying that I am a mommy rather than I’ll be a mommy.) For me, teaching and parenting come from the same place in my heart. There is no way that I’ll be able to teach the way I feel I need to teach and parent the way I feel I need to parent when I’m trying to stretch myself in both directions giving 100 percent in both places. I. can’t. do. it. I know I can’t.
This was not an easy decision. I cried about it a lot. I cried because I felt that I wasted my time attaining my dream: a college degree. I cried because I never wanted this to be my life. I cried because if I could have planned out every single thing that I would do/ accomplish/ experience in my life, quitting was not in my scope of vision. Becoming a wife was not in my scope of vision. Becoming a mother was not in my scope of vision. Becoming a stay at home mother was most definitely not in my scope of vision. I had other plans for my life.
““My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.
“And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.
For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so my ways are higher than your ways
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”” – Isaiah 55:8-9
The timing is perfect. October. The month of pumpkin flavored EVERYTHING! The changing of the seasons in nature as well as in my life. Fall. In literature, this season can symbolize the changing from youth to “a more mature part of life that is full of wisdom and knowledge…” But it is also, “the harvest season[.] When the spoils of the year’s labor are gathered and plenty becomes visible for all eyes to see before much of it is put away in preparation for the leaner months.” Leaner months of getting to know BB. Getting to know myself as a parent. Leaner months of watching Wes in his role as daddy. It’s exciting. It’s scary. It’s my life. I cannot believe that this is my life.
One day, when I was hanging out with Dee, we had a little talk about the transition. I explained how I was feeling. (I love how openly I can talk with her. She really does know me very, very well. Isn’t it amazing how God can make your best friends out of siblings?). Anyway, I was talking and she said something to the effect of why I am surprised that my life is taking these drastic turns. She said it’s because this is how other people’s lives go. Not my life. This is the story book. I’m living a dream and I’m not used to the things in my life turning out like they do in those feel-good movies. In my life (and in my little sister’s life) there always seems to be that unexpected plot twist (except it’s not unexpected for us because it always happens…or, at least, it used to happen).
So… off I go to live my almost too-good-to-be-true life with my more than perfect husband and my new baby (due in three weeks). It will be one heck of a ride. Am I scared? Heck yes. Am I certain that this is what I’m supposed to do? With all of my heart and soul. Do I think it will be easy? Not even. But, I’m sure I’ll write about it because that’s what I do. I’m actually really looking forward to this transition. Phase two.
But what I’m not looking forward to is telling my students that I will not be back. I will have to tell them the answer to the question that they have been asking me since they found out that I am pregnant. I will have to tell them, “I love you but I quit.”