No, I am not

Some reason for the last month or so, I have had to repeatedly answer the same question.  "When do you go back to school?"  Then I have to smile, and answer, I am not teaching anymore.  It's been five years and that sentence still hurts.  Like knife in the heart, hurt.  It is still a sucker punch to the gut.  I still want to curl up and cry.

Today's Facebook memory was about the beginning of the end for me as a teacher.  I was worried about what the new year would bring.  Now I look back and think "I had every reason to worry".  

So as I was running this morning, I had my choice of a story about Pulse Nightclub and the shooting or the news about the attack in France.  Neither were something that I wanted to focus on as I was sweating so I started thinking about the events in my life five years ago and why it still hurt to say "No, I am not teaching".  

All my life, all I ever wanted to do was teach and be a mom.  I thought it would be great to help explain the world and how it works to children, then nurture my own brood.  Well, both of those are not at all happening.  Five years ago I was forced to make a decision that I still regret to this day, but I know was the right path for me.

I don't talk about this time as I am ashamed.  I'm embarrassed that I didn't fight harder, try harder, work harder.  I'm embarrassed that I can no longer proudly proclaim "I'm a teacher".  I'm hurt by the decision forced onto me.  I'm hurt that I am no longer using my hard fought and earned degree that hangs on my wall.  I'm sad that I am not getting ready to start my new year with new students and all new possibilities.  I was recently told by some people that were a huge influence in my life that they were proud of me.  All I could think was "Why?".  It still hurts.

I vividly remember sitting in the Assistant Superintendent's office and talking about my options for the next year.  I was given the choice to either continue in a horrific situation or resign.  Neither option seemed good.  Spend another year being told that I am a horrible person and worse teacher and a detriment to the children I was around or leave the profession I dreamed about doing since I was a little girl.  I was heartbroken and destroyed.  The tears just streamed down my face as I signed my resignation paper.  It was over.  After only 7 years, I was quitting.  The worst phone call I ever had to make was right after I got out of that meeting and told my parents the outcome of the meeting.  I got sick on the way home.  By the time I got to my house, the dam burst open and I barely made it inside to the bathroom.  I sat on the floor of my bathroom with tears choking me as I realized my dream had died.  I didn't get up from the couch all weekend, except to go to church because I was (ironically) teaching Sunday School.  I taught my class, then went home, put my pajamas back on and laid on the couch.  I don't remember much else about the next few days.

Even as I am writing this, I am getting choked up.  The part of me that was my whole identity was gone and I had to rewire my beliefs.  I started searching for a job and it was a God thing that I am where I am.  I know that I am doing the thing that God has for me.  But answering the question "When are you going back to school?" still hurts.  I think it always will.