It is funny how God is so clear and direct in retrospect. Two months ago when Ms. Bridgewater asked me to write her a letter, I missed my call to action. I missed the obvious and direct call to write.
Today, a kind soul at work pointed out to me that we go to the same church, and we both didn’t even realize it. I asked her how she knew because I hadn’t run into her at church, and she said it was because she saw one of my blog posts on the church website.
This was my reminder. I will write and answer the call.
Here is my first blog post in several months, and this blog post is actually that letter I should have written a long time ago. Sorry, Ms. Bridgewater.
Back-story before my letter begins: Ms Bridgewater asks me to write a letter about why I left teaching. If you have read my previous blog posts, or have ever heard me talk about teaching, you know that Ms. Bridgewater is a soul shaker of an educator. She was my teacher for multiple years in high school, my inspiration as an educator and my ultimate goal for the kind of teacher I wanted to be.
When she asked me to write about why I left, it felt like a punch in the gut. It is not that it was unkind or rude of Ms. Bridgewater to ask this of me; in fact, it just confirms all the wonderful things I believe and know to be true about her. She believes in education and good teachers. She wants to know why I left so that she might be able to share this with the right people to bring knowledge and hopefully make change.
Nonetheless, it felt like a gut punch because I did abandon ship. You can also read my other blog post about why I had to abandon said ship, but I please read this letter, too.
This is the letter that I said I would write you a long time ago, Ms. Bridgewater.
I apologize.
Ms. Bridgewater,
You told me as a high school Senior one day that you thought I would make a great teacher. I stored this away in my heart, and the seed you planted grew, and I believe it provided for three years that I would describe in some form or fashion as inspiring teaching.
I taught hundreds of students that I do not believe I would have, had you not whispered words of encouragement and inspiration to me as your own student.
But, what you did not tell me that day was that being a teacher in the educational system as it exists currently, is like being in a hurricane with furious winds that would do their best to blow out that light of inspiration you lit all those years ago.
For me, the storms raged three years.
While the storm raged, there was refuge along the way. My students were always my lighthouse keepers. They always kept me on course in the middle of the storm. When winds picked up and waves raged, I always only ever needed to look into the eyes of my students. They were the light.
My personal education and love for learning was my strong vessel. It allowed me to stay afloat, to run across rough waters.
But the light from the lighthouse went out. My sweet lighthouse keepers, you did the best you could. It was not your fault. My boat took on water, and I no longer stood a chance of remaining afloat.
I would continue to talk in analogy, but one thing being an educator has taught me in my three short years is that there is never enough time, so I will face the storm and speak the truth.
I left teaching because…
-I worked between 60-80 hours a week.
-I had a million hats to wear and jobs to do but only one head, two hands and 24 hours in a day.
-I am a people pleaser, and despite being really good as what I did, I could never please everyone. There was always more to give (even when there wasn’t).
-My job and my life started to blur, and I could not come home and be a wife, a friend and a daughter because being a teacher never stopped.
-I experienced so much stress in my three years of teaching that I had to go to the emergency room twice for anxiety.
I will always have a hole in my heart because:
-God equipped me to be an amazing educator.
-I have no greater love than of learning and teaching others the same.
-I am no longer changing lives on a large scale.
-A year will come soon when no more of my former students will run up to me at a local football game embracing me in a hug.
-I will never become my superhero (you, Ms. Bridgewater).
These are my own selfish reasons why I am sad I left teaching. The part that keeps me up at night is:
Who will teach our children when the hurricane blows out all the lights?
This is my letter. Please be kind with it. I hope that I can find my opening words to this blog post to me true in years to come.
“It is funny how God is so clear and direct in retrospect.”
I am confident that He will still use me for His will in some important way, and I believe that I made my impact in those three years on a scale that I will never understand the size of. I am confident God has me working on a new and different part of his tapestry. I may not see it now, but I believe what I said. God is clear and direct in retrospect. One day I will look back, and I will know my why my lighthouse light went out and my boat sunk. It was simply time to get on the life raft. We shall see how the voyage continues, how the tapestry weaves together.
For now, I have faith, this letter and this blog post.