Dear Teacher Who Wants to Quit:
I am sorry.
Sorry too that I must start first with regret. What a poor way to begin. But you are leaving teaching. And a void has already been left in the wake of this momentous decision. I feel that void. And sorrow too; for when decisions like this are to be made, it is grievous. It is hard. And it brings with the complication of the matter a complexity. Complemented by muddled thoughts and sincerest compassions.
Would that this were not so. But you must do this for you. I understand that. I respect that. I get it.
It's still hard. For everyone. I hope you get that too.
You and I have never met. Our paths have never crossed. And oh!, but I desire they would. Would that they could. I felt the weight of the words I read tonight. Your words. You are done teaching now, after 21 years. Done. You say it's over, even though doors have still been left ajar. Open in the event you change your mind. You won't, you say. And so this decision (you so plainly express), it is thus a painful one. A pulling away, a separation of sorts. The full effect of which you have not yet felt, its raw intensity the afterglow.
You are leaving teaching.
Permit me to say this: what loss we as educators feel right now. What collective pain we bear. You are a needless casualty. Sidelined. Left injured on the battle grounds. What other words to use but wounded, for we as teachers fight wars we've never bargained for.
Those left standing, one of which am I -- we feel weak. Feel lacking without you. We do not know each other, you and I, but we joined forces when we stood united in our common desire to educate. Fellow comrades from different points across the globe. Teachers: called to inspire and educate and lift our students. We are fellow cohorts even though our life path lead us down different winding roads.
We have not met. But my heart aches. For your presence will be missed. You leave a void. Your spirit, soul and heart will forever carry forth your call.
You are leaving teaching.
As are so many, many others.
There are battles raging even right now that we as teachers seemingly cannot fight. There are forces by which we feel overpowered. All around us, the pressure is to standardize, regulate, assess, quantify, qualify. It seems teaching is currently more about data than it is about children. It is seemingly more about numbers than hearts. More about facts than about minds. More about records and statistics than about the big and little bodies which come to school as their very best selves, ready to face the giants day in and day out. Ready to climb mountains.
The children we teach are people. Not numbers to crunch. Figures to analyze. Data.
They are souls.
But so are we, dear friend. So are we.
So you are leaving teaching.
Could I ask you to humour one last request? Think back to the first day you knew -- knew that you would one day be a teacher. Think back to that one, isolated moment. And ask yourself to stay in that moment. Rest there. Remember. Can you recall that reason you chose to teach? Its meaning for you personally? That call to teach -- it still matters. It does.
The why for what brought you here to this moment is still alive, buried though it might be.
Could you ever find it in you to reclaim it? Can you stir to life the embers of a dying dream?
You said you thought you'd be a teacher until you die. I wager a bet. You will be.
A teacher is less a profession and more a mindset. More an outlook than a physical position. Teachers teach because they are hope spreaders, love sharers, compassion extenders, grace bringers. Teachers teach because they believe. Because they believe that there is something good in this world to know and be. Something good in this world to remember. And something good in this world to aspire to, to reach for. To hope for. Teachers must then teach for freedom and justice. For awareness and love. William Ayers has said it better than I in his writing on headaches in teaching:
The teacher in this way of thinking is one who challenges the taken-for-granted, problematizes solutions, and questions received reality. The teacher, like the writer, can be a philosopher, a scientist, an artist, a citizen, and even an activist, but only if he or she stays alive to the possibilities and attuned to what has yet to be achieved in terms of freedom, justice, understanding, and beauty.
My friend, do not forget that you are still a teacher. And wherever life leads you, whether away from the chaos of our schools or back into the fray: never stop believing in the hope of possibility.
You are a teacher. And you always will be.
Where there is life, there is potential. Wherever desire and stubborn resolve are found, there is a hope of achieving possibility.
Yes, you are leaving teaching. But dear friend, teaching will never quite be done for you. You will always be a teacher, it's written on your heart. So go forward, do what your heart is calling you to do.
Heal. Mend. Grow. Love.
And always keep alive the possibility that there is room for you here. There is a place for you here. If you should ever feel the call within you rise up once more.
The Teacher Who Has Been There Too
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