The worker who took my passport renewal documents Tuesday looked amazed. “All these papers are in order!”
“I used to teach.”
“Oh! God bless you.”
I thought, yes, God bless me. (And no, I didn’t sneeze.) It’s been a year since my life was scheduled by bells, but much like soldiers, the battles are still the background noise in my mind. They tell me I’ll always have nightmares, but I’m happy to trade my days of hell for the occasional bad dream or panic that the next three months aren’t planned in detail.
One year later, and I’m happy to say that I haven’t sat in the work parking lot crying even once since leaving teaching. I haven’t wished for natural disasters to close everything down (was COVID a sloppy manifestation of my wishes?) or slept twelve hours at night to make the week pass faster.
I was warned that I would miss snow days and summer vacation. It turned out that my workplace was closed every time school was and even one day when it wasn’t. I can’t speak for summer vacation yet but as a teacher, it took a month of that vacation to feel human again and the other month I spent dreading the approaching school year. Maybe I’ll miss the time at home. It’s an adjustment.
The pros outweigh the cons in my case. Some positives I’ve noticed:
- Energy! I’m no longer too exhausted to think. (This alone was worth quitting for.)
- Freedom of speech, all day, every day
- Recycled, open chunks of brain real estate (now that the catalogs of rules, policies, procedures, names, dates, and schedules are beginning to disintegrate)
- Reduced anxiety
- Better sleep
- Lower blood pressure
- Urinary freedom! I can pee whenever I want! (Not a big deal? Try teaching with a full bladder.)
My point? Kids, be careful what you choose to do in college, and don’t let anyone tell you what’s right for you. Also, never have a plan to fall back on, unless you’re planning to fall. The misery of being stuck in the wrong career is best avoided.
Quitting was the best decision I ever made.
