Why I Quit My Job

Last year I decided to leave my teaching job. The teaching job that I literally worked years to get. I was frustrated and unhappy for most of the year. I thought I was leaving for a lot of different complicated reasons, but now that I have been home for a while I know exactly why I left.

I was exhausted.

Not tired, or sleepy. Not the kind of exhausted that can be fixed by a good night's sleep or even a long weekend. The kind of bone deep, perpetual exhaustion that you don't even realize you have until you are free from it.

Every morning I would wake up and get all four of my kids ready for their various schools. I would have to get everyone in the car by 7:45 or else I would be late for the day. I would drop off my two youngest (a toddler and a preschooler) at daycare. Thank goodness they served breakfast at the daycare. My two oldest would order from the McDonalds drive thru more often than I would like to admit. I would get into my classroom around 8:15 (most likely later since by this time we were usually running late). I would then spend a frantic 45 minutes making copies, printing, grading, writing notes, differentiating - trying to make the day perfect for my 25 other children.

While I would do this my two girls would sit in the classroom and practically beg me for attention. I snapped at them so many times.

Then the bell would ring. My two girls would run off to class (or be trying to run as I brushed the hair that we hadn't gotten to at home that morning), while my students rushed in.

The next 6.5 hours would be the normal blur of a school day. We had our successes, both small and big. I was a rock star at some moments and I failed in others, but we kept going. I gave it my all - all day.

When the afternoon bell rang, I often had a group of kids that would stay after school for weekly tutoring. Again, my two girls would come into the classroom ready to share about their days and I would hustle them into a corner - with a snack if I had remembered to stock up that week.

Our school doesn't get out until almost 4:00, so tutoring wouldn't end until 4:30. At that point I would have to rush back to the daycare to pick up the littles, so we could eat dinner at a reasonable time. Of course there were many days that I didn't get to the daycare until after 5:00.

Once we were home it was time to make dinner while four little people pulled on me. We did almost always sit down for dinner as a family. I know how important that is for children's development, so I always tried my best to make that happen. Of course, that part of dinner would last about ten minutes and then everyone was off to play.

I would have to wrestle my oldest girls back to the table to tackle the homework that hadn't been completed yet. The homework never took long, it was always the complaining that sucked up our after dinner time together.

Finally, everyone would be in bed, and I could collapse next to my husband. Then the little feet would come tiptoeing into our room. The requests for a glass of water, or one more story, or the insistence that a nightmare had occurred in the 30 seconds it had taken me to leave the bedroom.

Eventually, sleep would come. I would be rested just enough to be able to open my eyes the next morning when it all started again.

It sounds crazy as I type it out now. And, I should say I do have a loving husband that helps with the kids as much as he can, but he has his limits. He can't leave work early, he can't take the kids in the morning, he can't help with homework, he can't deal late at night.

I also worked at a job that let me bring my kids with me. And I worked from 8:30 to 4:30. I know that a lot of people work much longer hours, and they can't bring their kids with them. I always felt like I didn't have it that bad. That I should feel guilty for complaining when so many people would love to change places with me. I grew up with a single mom that had to get my sister and I up and to daycare by 6:00 a.m. every morning. She often wouldn't pick us up until close to 6:00 p.m.

And that inner monologue - that I was lucky - just added to my exhaustion. Because I never felt like I was giving enough to any part of my life. There were teachers at school working much longer hours than me. Teachers who had detailed lesson plans and data points for every student in every subject, color coded (of course). There were parents who weren't a hot mess. Parents who packed their kids lunches every day with healthy, delicious options. Parents who planned play dates and remembered spirit days.

I worried that I wasn't doing enough for my students. I worried that i wasn't doing enough for my children.

In the end, I didn't leave teaching because I realized that no one person could be everything I demanded of myself. I wish I had. I wish I had seen that the person I should have been worried about was myself.

Luckily though, I did leave. I had so many reasons for leaving, and the answer I gave often depended on the person who was asking.

Leaving was really scary, and I almost didn't do it. I was worried about who I would be if I wasn't Mrs. O'Donnell.

As I now wrap up my first month as an ex-teacher, I am starting to feel like myself again. The "me" I was before I was stretched so thin that I had headaches almost every night.

I have time to take care of myself, and so I have energy to take care of others. I had thought that staying home meant giving up on being of service. I felt like a failure. But I have found new ways to give back.

I know from personal experience that teachers can't do it all. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do everything "good" teachers do. Creating at TpT is one way that I can give back. I remember how much time I spent putting together lessons. I love that I can save that time for others.

I can also give back by sharing my story. I am sure that there are countless other women out there who are giving everything they have and still don't feel like it is enough. That they are not enough. I am here to tell them that they are. That we can't take care of anyone else unless we take care of ourselves. It sounds so simple, but it is easy to forget.

This is definitely not the post I was intending to write when I started typing tonight, but I am glad I have gotten it down. I have been so happy staying home these past weeks, but I hadn't taken the time to think about why I feel this way.

I think that I feel happy because for the first time in a long time, my life is in balance. For now.