I Walked AwayAfter 27 Years and Didn't Look Back

by Rivette Pena, MACI

What do I do now? Not just with my time but all my teaching stuff. I’ve collected quite a bit over the last 27 years. Do you ever stop being a teacher? For the better part of 3 decades, I’ve gotten up with the goal of educating young minds. Now what? Well let’s take a step back.

The beginning of the end.

As I looked at my classroom for the last time, (not knowing it was going to be the last time), I left with a to do list for when I would come back. Tragedy struck and I didn’t return. I was filled with such hatred for a job I had given my all to for 27 years, for a district I’d been a part of for 20 years. I never wanted to set foot in that building again. And I never did.

You see my daughter was very ill and she had a toddler at home that she was responsible for. She was 20 years old and according to the district and my principal she was old enough to take care of herself. I could not keep missing to take care of her. The Friday I left, my principal met with me and told me if I missed another day I could be fired. If my test scores dipped, I could lose my job. I was department head and had been at the school for 20 years and this was how I was being treated.

The next morning my daughter passed away with her daughter in her arms. I will never forgive myself for not leaving work when she asked me to.

The Bitter End

I never went back to clean my classroom or say goodbye. My friends understood and anyone else I really didn’t care either way. There would be no retirement party for me. There would be no celebration of my time at my school. I would be replaced and the district wouldn’t even remember me.

Questions

Why did I devote so many years and so much effort into a district that didn’t even appreciate my loss? I was a higher paid experienced teacher that could easily be replaced by a first year teacher making the minimum salary. I had already felt the push.

Why did I sacrifice time with my family? Why did I put in so many unpaid hours? Why did I spend so much of my own money on my classroom? Why did I defend public education? Why did I prioritize my job over my family?

I’ll tell you why. Teachers have been brainwashed into believing that all of those things are expected of you and they just come with the job.

NO! Stop believing that. Stop living for your teaching job.

A new beginning

Now is my time to put me and my family first. Don’t make my mistake. Say NO!

• No, I can’t tutor on my own time, my family needs me.

• No, I can’t spend my own money on school supplies and decorations, my family needs the money.

• No, I can’t come to work when I’m sick.

• No, I can’t work today my children need me.

• No, I won’t grade papers at home.

• No, I won’t teach virtually while on maternity leave.

Live for yourself and your family. When all is said and done, that’s all you have.

Some may wonder, what kind of teacher that makes you. Well it makes you a well balanced teacher. A rested teacher who has the patience to deal with the events of the day. A teacher who teaches with energy and devotion to her students while she is at school. She manages her time

efficiently. She spends 20 to 30 minutes after school to put in grades and/or prepare for the next day. Then she leaves and does not take work home with her.

Classrooms are self-sufficient. Students manage the day to day operations: attendance, distributing papers, grading, distributing materials. Students regulate the condition of their surroundings. They clean up after themselves.

Impossible you say?

Come back for my next article on classroom organization and management.

Conclusion

Prioritize. There is a life beyond teaching. It is not a vortex that you can never be free of. You can still do the job you love and have an outside life. You don’t have to live only part of the summer. Live guilt free. And for heaven’s sake do not fall for the old, it’s all part of the job. And if you are single with no kids, that doesn’t mean you deserve any less. Your time is still yours. Prioritize yourself.