I loved my students and my fellow teachers--but hated almost everything else about it. I'd wanted to be a teacher my entire life, can you believe that?? I got off course a few times (which is why a bachelor's degree took me four schools and seven years!) but always knew I wanted to teach. And I had a terrible, terrible experience.
I grew a lot, though!! And got to know some precious children that I will never forget. I had one student who didn't want to go home on Fridays because he said he'd miss me. Another use to blush and grin when I told him that he reminded me of what my husband must've been like at his age. Receiving countless hugs and massive piles of beautiful artwork...witnessing and influencing amazing accomplishments in reading and writing...helping girls with their friendship issues that I remember all too well...chatting about anything and everything during holiday parties and snack time...probably hundreds of books read aloud to twenty-five eager faces...lots of amazing memories.
But it was hard. Really, really hard. Not my cup of tea. I don't think I'm tough enough. I can't turn that off and on. I want to talk to them, play with them and relate to them, not discipline them! Not constantly remind them to lower their voices or straighten their line. Ugh. Nope, I don't miss it. Miss the kids? Yes. Miss the challenge? Yes.
But I still have dreams. I can't find my classroom...I've forgotten all my students' names...I don't have a math lesson prepared...I'm late for school and my class is waiting for me on the baseball field...it's parent night and we haven't planned a program...you get the idea. When I wake up and realize I'm not teaching anymore, it is such an enormous relief.
Will I ever go back? Maaaaaaaaybe. Maybe. I'm glad it's a part of my life story and I'm grateful for the people I met and the lessons I learned. But I'm also so very glad to be outa there.
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