It’s the end of my last first term of high school. That sounds like something a 17-year-old would say, but I’m a little beyond that. I’ve decided to call an end to my amazing carreer teaching English.
Why?
There are reasons. Lots of them. Mostly the reasons are super positive: Scott has a good job. I want to be a fulltime writer. We are in a stable place. As the nest empties, it’s a good time for changes.
And as I ponder and consider (and there has been considerable considering, believe me), I am eager to pursue a life of creative work.
I want to be a writer. I think I can make a real go of it.
And I’m searching out all kinds of beautiful moments while I’m still here at school.
I love these kids.
I’ve had a great experience with teaching over the past 9 years. I have loved getting to know kids in their strength and in their vulnerability, of seeing them struggle and win (and sometimes not win). I have loved getting to see inside minds and into hearts.
This week, the seniors who are taking a university level English class have a personal narrative essay due. Many of my former students have brought me their essays — for help in polishing them up, or just because they want to share what they’ve written. I feel so honored by the way the kids are gifting me with their words (and a little credit now and then). This is a great payback, and I’m not going to lie, it’s something I’ll miss.
I’ll miss being important. I’ll miss being known. I’ll miss being a favorite.
But I’m wriggling with excitement to live my creative life. There are joys ahead.