(part of the Ebola Mom series)
What just happened.
Tag Archives: teaching
My Face
Just ran into a school parent while running in the park.
Parent: “So I heard a rumor you left the school? And classroom teaching completely?”
Me: “Yeah, the rumor is true.”
Parent: “Good for you! I knew you were done. Every time I saw you this year, I could just see it on your face.”
No I’m pretty sure that’s just my face.
Closure
That moment when a parent who gave you hell for 4 years of your teaching career somehow tracks down your phone number and calls you to say that she is sorry for everything she put you through, and she acknowledges the role she played in her children’s in-school difficulties, and she says that she heard that you are leaving the teaching profession so she didn’t want you to depart without knowing that truly, deeply, she really does appreciate everything you did for her and her two sons over the years, thus providing you with the perfect feeling of satisfied closure as you end your classroom career.
That didn’t actually happen.
I’m just saying. It’d be nice.
Instead I just walked by said parent getting drunk and smoking cigs at a neighborhood bar.
Wonder where the kids are.
A Few Clarifiers About My Retirement
I am in day 2 of my retirement and I feel the need to address some questions/comments/concerns that have come my way regarding my decision to leave classroom teaching. This is not a rant– you’ve all been awesomely enthusiastic about it. Just want to clear up some confusion.
1. To be clear, I only left classroom teaching. I am not retired and lying around doing nothing. I’m not sure why this is so confusing for people. Maybe it’s because I keep calling it “my retirement.” 
2. I did not quit my job because I met a man to take care of me, and now I don’t have to work. That is absurd. This is real life, not Real Housewives of Potomac. 
I am still working. But yes, Eric did give me the support, encouragement, stability and gentle kick in the ass I needed to finally leave something that was making me unhappy (and had been for years) and move on to pursue things that bring me joy and contentment. And for that I am eternally grateful.
3. “But I thought you love the people you work with?” I do. With all my heart. They are now some of my best friends on earth, and will remain so. The people I met in my 7 years at that school are the only reason I stayed as long as I did, and I never could have made it through without them. They are my family. My actual job, and all the political/administrative limitations placed on it, is what left me unfulfilled. Not the people. My co workers are, and always will be, the brightest spot in my memory of classroom teaching.
4. “So what are those things you’re going to pursue?” As of now– full time tutoring (which focuses on all the aspects I love about teaching without the systemic BS that prevents me from actually helping children), getting more involved in mental health causes, working on my blog, pursuing freelance writing opportunities, and, honestly, whatever else I think of that sounds exciting!
5. Which leads to the final question/concern: “But if you don’t have crazy stories about classroom teaching, or crazy stories about dating, what are you going to write about?”
Yeah, well, I don’t know, people. I’m just hoping it turns out better for me than it did for this guy.
The Best Advice
At our end of year staff party…
Co-worker (to me): “I just want to wish you good luck in your future endeavors, and to say thank you so much for all your help when I first started here.”
Me: “Aw, thank you! But I definitely don’t remember being of any help at all!”
Co-worker: “No, you totally were. You gave me the best advice.”
Me: “Oh? What was that?”
Co-worker: “You said, ‘I’ve been here 4 years and I have no idea what I’m doing. If I haven’t gotten caught yet, neither will you.'”
It’s probably good I left the system.
No Need For Sentiments
“I’m cutting off your work email account at 5pm on Friday.”
— my Assistant Principal, to me, as he hugged me goodbye for the last time.
Kid: “Miss Emily, are you pregnant?”
Me: “No. Are YOU pregnant?”
Kid (confused): “That’s a silly question.”
Exactly.
That About Sums It Up
A few days ago, my coteacher and I sent this kid-written newspaper article to our significant others on the group text chain:
Then today, one of our students wrote a song about us and sang to us. We immediately sent it to the men.
We’ll be sure to publish that in the class paper. Advice column.
Seems Reasonable
“I had an itch.”
— Kindergartener, when I walked into the bathroom and saw her standing in front of the sink with her pants completely removed.
Nope, that’s just food.
“You’re not pregnant too, are you?”
— Parent, to me, after hearing that almost everyone on my grade team is pregnant.
Because, as everyone knows, pregnancy is contagious.
And a completely appropriate subject to broach with someone you don’t know well at all.
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