Terrified and Excited

OK. I’m doing it. I am going to take a deep breath and jump.

I’ve always said that I have the best job in the world - 75% of the time. (I will admit that I've also said that the other 25% of the time it's like bashing your head against a wall… think faculty meetings, behavior issues, dealing with difficult parents, and assorted duties (recess, lunch, and car)). And the 75% amazing portion of my job has kept me going for almost two decades. Being an art educator is a major part of my identity usually falling right behind my roles of wife and mom. And I've always taken pride in it.

Through 38 mile commutes, having 2 children, working year round with positions at summer camps, completing a master’s degree in a city over an hour away (commuting after teaching while pregnant) I balanced and juggled many different responsibilities.

For 15 years I was able to fulfill all responsibilities required of me without letting the cracks in my facade show.

And then it happened. I broke, and like Humpty Dumpty I haven't been able to be put back together again. Unfortunately, despite my best efforts to climb back on the wall (with the assistance of all the king's horses and all the king's men) I am going to have to admit defeat.

In the past eighteen years I've worked at 5 schools, for 6 principals, with hundreds of teachers and thousands of students and families. I have always thought that this would be my life's path. The connections and relationships in education are unlike that of almost any other profession. Watching “my kids” grow, as both artists and human beings, is an incredible experience. The small moments such as the triumphs, the smiles, hugs, cards and excitement shown by students are incomparable (see photo below which I just received this week).

So why am I leaving?

My mental health, built up frustration and exhaustion have made my job more than I can handle. In the past few years colleagues, friends and therapists have questioned whether my current school is a trigger for my depression. I have adamantly denied this thought because my own children are happy at the school and I had the only job that offered benefits in my household. I would often say that I felt like I was on a hamster wheel and I couldn't get off.

For a brief minute I thought that maybe a different school and a fresh start would be the solution. I even started my application to return to public school. And then I thought about it. The issues may be different in other schools, but the pressure and chaos of being an art teacher would still be there. And just the idea of starting over in my current state is enough to send me over the edge.

Being an art teacher is a little like being a red-headed stepchild. I won’t go into the details here, but ask any art teacher and I think 99% of them will agree. You have to have thick skin and get used to being at the bottom of the totem pole… like the one you'll be asked to build and paint for the school play.

Two days ago, my rabbi and I had a conversation that yet again pointed to the possible connection between my mental health recovery and my job. And for the first time I let that totally soak in. We discussed and she confirmed that leaving for a different school would still mean the same bureaucracy and just exchanging one set of stress inducing interactions with another.

But this discussion was different. She talked with me about solutions, options, and most importantly we realized that the timing of this most recent crash was beshert (yiddish word loosely translated as “meant to be”). Dan’s new job, which he accepted only a few weeks ago, offers benefits. I no longer have to feel like I am responsible for our family’s health insurance. And sitting there realized that I can now actually do something different. And I am ready for a change.

I talked to Dan, I slept on it. I don’t know what to expect. Eighteen years ago I began teaching, not quite half of my life, but close enough. I am not sure what the future will bring, but I am ready to take that risk. So in August when all my educator friends are returning for another school year I won't be there with them. I am terrified, excited, and more than a little sad. I am going to hold my breath, close my eyes and dive head first into a new beginning. Here goes... (after 7 more weeks of teaching - not that I'm counting)