Going Home

It is interesting how something can start out one way and end up another. When I left my teaching job in Florida to move to Virginia I thought that I would never find another school as wonderful as the one I left. I was close to so many people there and I loved being there. I would go in early and stay late. I loved being around the kids. I rarely took a sick day in the three years that I taught there. Quite often kids would stay after school to help me do things in the room and I was more than happy to have them around for the company as well as for the help. The faculty became like my family. I loved being surrounded by their collective knowledge not only of their subjects but of the craft of teaching.

I gave my notice right before the start of the new school year when my husband started a new job in Virginia. I reported to work anyway to get things ready for my replacement. People wondered why I had even bothered to work when I could have enjoyed a few weeks of vacation time, but I couldn’t imagine not being there to help out at the beginning of the year which is such a busy time. The last few days I was there were spent saying good-bye and taking pictures. I was like a middle school kid who was having a hard time leaving her friends on the last day of school knowing that she would probably never see them again. It became a joke around school that if someone was looking for me all they needed to do was roam the halls. I could be found out there hugging someone.  It was so hard to leave. That final day I just kept hanging around. I actually sat in the front office making sure that I got to see everyone before they left for the day.

Arriving at my new school was a shock. It seemed so technology and test-score driven. Once again I put in long hours trying to advance my craft. The teachers there didn’t seem as friendly and I felt alone most of the time my first year. The collaboration that had happened so naturally at my previous school just didn’t exist at this one. Instead there was a feeling of competition that I had never experienced before. Sharing wasn’t very open in my department and those things that were shared seemed contrary to what I knew the teaching research showed.  My department head at the time was stressed out and seemed on the verge of a break down.

The kids seemed more distant too. I was used to kids who had little so the time and attention you gave them meant everything. These kids were used to adults doing things for them constantly. I will never forget that first year when I was told that my duty period would consist of running forgotten lunches to kids whose parents had brought them to the office and making sure that kids got the messages that their parents had phoned into the office.  It proved to be challenging going from teaching 6^th graders who still loved and wanted you (almost too much!)  to teaching 8^th graders who were too cool to give you the time of day. They were intimidating and they were so much bigger than my 6^th graders.   

Over the years though things started to change. New teachers came to our school with fresh ideas similar to the ones I had brought with me originally. A spirit of collaboration was born. I began to appreciate the technology and looked at it not as a hindrance but as a way to reach students who I might not have reached otherwise. I began to view testing as simply one way to measure my success in the classroom, but I remembered to keep it in perspective. As I put in my hours I became a better teacher for it. The parental involvement became a blessing when it came to dealing with discipline issues. The 8^th grade attitude became a strength once they were sold.  If they were sold on me they would do what was asked of them. Once the toughest critic in the class was sold you had them all.  I began to love the challenge that each day brought. I looked at my classroom as a living, breathing experiment that I got to be a part of every day. It was exciting.

Slowly over the years deep relationships with other teachers began to form. The Art teacher became a friend as we would discuss how art and literature could be used together many a Friday afternoon when all had left and the halls were dark and silent. The Librarian and I would discuss our desires to write while sitting in her office planning my latest attempt to make research more real and exciting for the kids. The Reading Specialist and I would discuss new reading strategies that we had tried to help our kids become better readers thus allowing an entire new world to open up to them. The new English teacher across the hall and I discussed at length and almost daily how we could engage our kids in writing and we both attended a summer college class that would help us to answer that very question. That class marked a turning point in my understanding of writing and thus put me on the path where I am today.

I loved getting paid to learn, and I got paid to sell kids on the joy of learning. I got paid to teach kids that their voice matters and that their story matters. So how could I give up all of that to stay home? How could I give up a job where there were so few days when I didn’t want to be there?

I ran into one of my teacher friends randomly this week when I was picking up my oldest from preschool. She was planning to enroll her son there for the fall and she happened to mention that Spring Fest was that night at school. Spring Fest is a way for the students to showcase their talents. Guests eat a fundraising dinner while enjoying performances by the chorus and band to name a few. There is an art exhibit and the book fair is also going on in the library. I knew immediately that I wanted to go and for some reason I had thought that it had already happened so I was even happier that the possibility had presented itself. It would be a great opportunity to see my teacher friends and for them to see the baby. Most had not seen her since she was a few months old.

It proved to be a wonderful evening. I took the baby and even students who I had never taught came running up to me calling my name to tell me how beautiful she was. I was able to get some hugs and catch up on the latest Young Adult fiction which is still one of my favorite genres. It felt familiar and in a way it was like going back home. But you can’t stay at home because to stay would be to refuse to grow.

I am on to the next chapter. Staying home for me is not giving up. I feel as though I am making room. Writing takes room mentally. So this feels like the natural progression. All those teachers did for me what teachers do best- encourage. I am so thankful to them for supporting my decision to leave. Not one person said anything negative about my decision to stay home. Not one person gave me a funny look. My principal even ended my resignation conversation with a hug and told me I was always welcome to come back. They would be waiting. It was such a comforting thought at the time. One I needed to cling to as I wondered if I was making a huge mistake. Could I really make it and be happy as a stay at home mom? Would I be miserable? Would I be good at it? I am better because of them in so many ways- a better teacher, a better mom, and a better person. I want to grow. I want all that God has for me. I want to do now what I have been encouraging my students for years to do. I need to tell my story as only I can because for some reason not entirely known to me, it matters.  And quite simply, I must be obedient to that call.