When I was young, I always knew what my life would be like when I grew up. I remember always wanting to be the mom when my little sister and I would play house (she was the mom more often, though, as she had a tendency to be pretty bossy). I also remember dressing up as a teacher for our second grade Future Career Day. Although I always knew I would be a teacher when I grew up, that wasn't ever my dream. I can remember times when I had a real desire for teaching, but those times left as quickly as they hit. I never wavered in my desire to be a wife and mom.
A few months ago, when I was sifting through old papers getting ready to move, I ran across an essay I wrote in my senior French class. After deciphering the fairly complex French, I remembered the assignment. We were supposed to write the story of our lives, as though we had already lived them. At that time, I had my life pretty well laid out in front of me. I was going to go to college to get my degree in education, find the love of my life while I was there, marry him about a year after graduation, teach until we had kids, and then be a stay-at-home mom until all the kids were in junior high or so. At that point I would go back into teaching. It was very much an echo of my mom's life. Of course, things didn't work out quite as planned. I wasn't able to obtain my MRS degree in college, as the old joke goes. Instead, I continued with the life I'd set out in my essay, just minus the husband.
I taught high school for five years, three in math and two in English. There were times when I enjoyed my job, but most of the time I just made it from day to day. I can't recall loving the job. I instead loved the attention I got because of my job. I don't fit the typical profile of a high school teacher. I also enjoyed the relationships I developed with the students. I didn't enjoy the actual act of teaching them as much. I was perfectly capable of doing my job, though, and I didn't exactly hate it. Not until the last semester I taught. During that last semester, I dealt with all the most frustrating aspects of teaching, all rolled into the span of a few months. I had a first period class of perpetual skippers or tardies, students who had recovered from serious grade problems who fell right back into old habits and lost all hope, a parent who constantly ignored a restraining order to stay away from her son's teachers at school, and a couple of students whom I and another teacher caught doing illegal drugs out of town at a prestigious competition. Even before Matt and I found out I was pregnant, I had decided it was time to look into other careers. He was completely supportive, even though it meant a significant drop in income.
After getting pregnant, everything changed again. It was not an easy pregnancy. I started missing lots of school because of the severe "morning" sickness (it lasted all day). My inconsistent presence at school was starting to take a toll on my already struggling students, and I was advised to think about just taking the rest of the year off. I calculated my sick days I'd accumulated over my five years and found I could do so without a cut in pay. It might have been a bigger issue if I wasn't planning to quit teaching (I'd need those days later), but the days were going to go to waste if I didn't use them, so why not take the rest of the year off? It was definitely a good decision; the stress from school was hurting the baby, and the baby was creating more stress at school. I got the chance to start being a good stay-at-home mom and wife extra early.
Only rarely do I regret that I'm not still teaching. It was such a part of my identity for so long. I still feel connected to teachers. When I hear TAKS, I still get riled up inside; I still rejoice for all my teacher friends and relatives every time another school holiday comes around. I feel like I have a secret hidden identity now when I'm around people who don't know of my former life. I still like surprising people when I tell them what I used to do. I also feel like I can relate to and empathize with all the teachers I encounter now. While I didn't thoroughly enjoy every day I taught, I don't regret it. It certainly helped turn me into the person I am now.
But now I am a former teacher, not a teacher. And I absolutely love my new job. There are times when I get frustrated that I can't help make Patrick feel better when he's screaming, but all those other times during the day easily make up for the frustrating ones. Finally now I am doing what I always dreamed of doing. Sure it's a twenty-four hour job with very little vacation time, and sure the pay isn't very good, but I still love my job. I know it's only temporary, though. At some point, we're going to find that being paid in baby smiles doesn't really help pay the bills. Maybe at that point I won't mind giving up my dream job to go back to a paying job, but in the meantime, I am going to enjoy every minute I get to live my dream.
A few months ago, when I was sifting through old papers getting ready to move, I ran across an essay I wrote in my senior French class. After deciphering the fairly complex French, I remembered the assignment. We were supposed to write the story of our lives, as though we had already lived them. At that time, I had my life pretty well laid out in front of me. I was going to go to college to get my degree in education, find the love of my life while I was there, marry him about a year after graduation, teach until we had kids, and then be a stay-at-home mom until all the kids were in junior high or so. At that point I would go back into teaching. It was very much an echo of my mom's life. Of course, things didn't work out quite as planned. I wasn't able to obtain my MRS degree in college, as the old joke goes. Instead, I continued with the life I'd set out in my essay, just minus the husband.
I taught high school for five years, three in math and two in English. There were times when I enjoyed my job, but most of the time I just made it from day to day. I can't recall loving the job. I instead loved the attention I got because of my job. I don't fit the typical profile of a high school teacher. I also enjoyed the relationships I developed with the students. I didn't enjoy the actual act of teaching them as much. I was perfectly capable of doing my job, though, and I didn't exactly hate it. Not until the last semester I taught. During that last semester, I dealt with all the most frustrating aspects of teaching, all rolled into the span of a few months. I had a first period class of perpetual skippers or tardies, students who had recovered from serious grade problems who fell right back into old habits and lost all hope, a parent who constantly ignored a restraining order to stay away from her son's teachers at school, and a couple of students whom I and another teacher caught doing illegal drugs out of town at a prestigious competition. Even before Matt and I found out I was pregnant, I had decided it was time to look into other careers. He was completely supportive, even though it meant a significant drop in income.
After getting pregnant, everything changed again. It was not an easy pregnancy. I started missing lots of school because of the severe "morning" sickness (it lasted all day). My inconsistent presence at school was starting to take a toll on my already struggling students, and I was advised to think about just taking the rest of the year off. I calculated my sick days I'd accumulated over my five years and found I could do so without a cut in pay. It might have been a bigger issue if I wasn't planning to quit teaching (I'd need those days later), but the days were going to go to waste if I didn't use them, so why not take the rest of the year off? It was definitely a good decision; the stress from school was hurting the baby, and the baby was creating more stress at school. I got the chance to start being a good stay-at-home mom and wife extra early.
Only rarely do I regret that I'm not still teaching. It was such a part of my identity for so long. I still feel connected to teachers. When I hear TAKS, I still get riled up inside; I still rejoice for all my teacher friends and relatives every time another school holiday comes around. I feel like I have a secret hidden identity now when I'm around people who don't know of my former life. I still like surprising people when I tell them what I used to do. I also feel like I can relate to and empathize with all the teachers I encounter now. While I didn't thoroughly enjoy every day I taught, I don't regret it. It certainly helped turn me into the person I am now.
But now I am a former teacher, not a teacher. And I absolutely love my new job. There are times when I get frustrated that I can't help make Patrick feel better when he's screaming, but all those other times during the day easily make up for the frustrating ones. Finally now I am doing what I always dreamed of doing. Sure it's a twenty-four hour job with very little vacation time, and sure the pay isn't very good, but I still love my job. I know it's only temporary, though. At some point, we're going to find that being paid in baby smiles doesn't really help pay the bills. Maybe at that point I won't mind giving up my dream job to go back to a paying job, but in the meantime, I am going to enjoy every minute I get to live my dream.
Labels: Feelings
3 Comments:
I am SO glad you have the opportunity to begin this new job. I wouldn't change one day of the 18 years I spent at home with the smartest, most beautiful children ever... well, maybe the month of chicken pox!
Thank you for not deleting this post. It is a beautiful story from your heart. Enjoy every moment of being a mom, even those when it seems like it's not a fun job at the time; you are building relationship. Money is not all that's it's cracked up to be, baby smiles will make you happy in the end, money won't.
I second my mom's opinion! I cannot tell you how much I envy you for being able to stay home with your son. Being a mommy is really all I've ever wanted to do, too. I know exactly where you're coming from :)
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