Lately, I have been doings something that I hate. Letting life live me instead of the other way around. One thing or another has taken me away from the things I want, while I spin my wheels trying to hold on to what I have.
Recently, I have been contemplating leaving teaching. For many years, all I wanted to do was teach. I didn’t think I had it in me to write a book or start a blog. And I loved working with kids, especially teenagers. (I have to thank my friend, Logan, for getting me involved in a youth group.) I liked making a difference. I felt like I was making on a difference. I liked having time to write and to have a life. At the start of last year, things began to change.
The life of a teacher is one where you are always behind and forever trying to re-balance home and work. Last year, it became harder and harder to do what need to be done for my students. Paperwork and data chats, common boards and formative assessment, interventions and two graded assignments per week, it was a never ending cycle in which no teacher ever catches up. It is a rats race and one that doesn’t pay the bills without this teacher working two other jobs.
So much time as gone into working to keep what I have there has been little time to work on building anything new for myself.
Teacher are supposed to work for the good of their students and not worry about the money. But when the money isn’t enough to pay bills and you can’t actually do what you think is best for them in your professional opinion; one begins to questions why they are continuing in a profession . Teacher aren’t really treated like professionals. But that is beyond the point.
The point is that I am questioning everything that I build my life upon and I don’t know if it is worth it to continue. Is it worth sacrificing my own dreams of a family for?