Did you know that cherry blossoms represent new beginnings?
This was never part of the plan. I have spent the last 10 years working in education. Being a teacher was my dream job, but as they say, all good things must come to an end. Leaving education was the hardest decision I have ever had to make, and honestly, part of me is still struggling with it.
Teaching taught me so much about myself, and it provided me the opportunity to meet some genuinely amazing individuals. It also left me in an unhealthy state. One of the things they don’t tell you before you enter the classroom is how much you will love your students. They don’t tell you that you will be emotionally invested in their struggles, and some of them will feel like family. There is a closeness that familiarity breeds, and when you spend 8 hours a day with someone, you can’t help but become familiar with them.
The most beautiful thing about teenagers is how open they are. When you give them the space to share, they will do so without filter or reservation. Like most beautiful things, there is also an inherent danger that lies within. The downside to sharing is the caring. When a student shares their personal struggles with you, it feels like doing anything less than lifting the burden means you aren’t doing your job. After all, we are in it for the children, right?
Unfortunately, caring for your students is not a sustainable career choice. This last year before I made the decision to walk away, I was anxious, irritable, and had lost 45 pounds from not being able to eat. I felt weighed down by my inability to improve the lives of my students. It wasn’t for a lack of trying though, as I spent much of my time walking through life with them, trying to be a stable and positive influence. It still wasn’t enough.
Quite frankly the system is not set up to support the kindness that rests in the heart of teachers. It has become too busy concerning itself with liability and achievement. I have never met a teacher who didn’t care, but I have met many who felt they couldn’t. Knowing that I could not support my students with the love and kindness they deserve, and how much that fact was affecting my health, I chose to walk away.
I have never been anything other than an educator. It is all I know; it is my identity. Despite that, I must journey into the unknown and begin anew. Interestingly enough, a few months ago I moved into my new apartment, in a new city, and noticed that there was a cherry blossom tree planted right in front of my building. At first, I didn’t think much of it outside of the fact that it reminded me of the white tree of Gondor from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings books. Then I remembered that in Japanese culture cherry blossoms represent new beginnings. It is rather fitting don’t you think?