FTSF – When We No Longer Love
I used to love the classroom.
When I was a little girl, I loved school. I loved everything about it. The swirls of leaves falling outside as we walked through the door in September. The pencils, the crayons, the phonics books. I loved my Charlie Brown and Snoopy lunch box and the way lunch time feels when you open that pack at the cafeteria table. I loved spaghetti lunch day and pizza Fridays. There were hot soft pretzels at recess – which were neither hot nor soft – but we loved them anyway. And when they appeared in those beautiful red plaid bags, we knew recess freedom was only moments away.
I loved milk money envelopes and the parachute in gym class (the only thing I loved in gym class, for the record). I loved writing rows and rows of letters, learning to spell, to do math, to write sentences, and to write in cursive. I loved making times tables charts out of folded yellow legal pad paper. I loved the switch from pencil to pen in third grade and feeling so grown up. I loved textbooks and homework and scribbling on the desk. I even loved cleaning the desk with that particular cleaner when I got caught.
I loved junior high dances, painful social excursions that they were. I loved the drama and the danger of the recess yard. I loved moving to high school and learning a whole new way of going to school. Switching rooms, switching teachers all day long. Making my way through the throngs of kids in the hall. Wondering why the seniors looked like adults and we freshmen looked like little kids. I loved carrying books from class to class and finding creative ways to make it to my locker often so I never had to carry a lot. I loved the down time in the cafeteria.
There were distinct sounds and smells of hallways, gymnasiums, locker rooms, and certain classrooms. I loved how every elementary school bathroom I ever visited smelled of a particular kind of clean. I loved the danger of having to use the girls’ room in high school and not be mistaken for one of the smokers.
Between classes was time for checking out that cute boy, passing notes, and socializing for as long as possible. Stretching the uniform code as far as possible was a competitive sport and to the victor went the spoils of detention. Sports and clubs, movie nights, dances, Cinderella licenses, SATs and the moment we let the door close behind us for the vary last time…
At every moment I loved learning. I loved reading and knowing and doing homework. I loved it all. I went to college and loved it more. I loved it all so well that I decided to find a way to be in school forever. I decided to teach.
Teaching thrilled me. I loved the thought and the reality of being on the other side of the desk and passing on those wonderful experiences to my own students. I loved running activities and getting to know my fellow teachers, I loved calling some of them friends.
I loved it all so well.
Until I didn’t.
I don’t know when it happened, exactly. I believe it was more of a slow and steady change rather than something sudden. Oh, there were sudden moments – but those that were most jarring came long after the slow erosion had already happened. Seems strange, doesn’t it? That what seems like it would be the impetus was just the final straw.
So what did happen?
I changed. And the game changed. Over time it became clear that I wanted something different for my life and the system wanted something different from me. I could not reconcile the two. Where once expectations dovetailed, they were now speeding off in separate directions.
School was not school as I knew and loved it. Teaching was exciting, rewarding, fulfilling. Guiding others along the path to discover things and think about things felt like an overworn path. Teaching was becoming anything but what I learned about teaching. Academia was a monster I was unfamiliar with. Teaching changed to a score-driven, test-directed system. What I read and heard and sat through professional development for was not what I loved about teaching. I loved discussion and in-depth analysis. I loved reading for meaning and writing about the truths found in the words and making the connections to life. The push for higher scores, more technology, student-centered learning, test-based skills, and more snowballed. More and more I felt that I was part of a system I no longer believed in.
I am not saying there are no good schools. There are, of course. I am not saying there are no good teachers. There are. I know dedicated, inspiring, and dynamic teachers exist. I’m related to them. I taught alongside them. I believed at one point that I might be one of them. Maybe I was; maybe not. I suppose it depends on whom you ask. I suppose it doesn’t matter.
What does matter? Being true to yourself. That matters. Knowing who you are – or at least striving to discover who you are. That matters.
For a while, I was not sure who I was. I knew who I thought I should be. I knew who I was becoming. I knew who I was not. I knew that I was conflicted about feeling such non-love for something I once loved so much.
How do you fall out of love with your life’s work?
It happens. It happens because life happens. People change, circumstances change, and our beliefs do sometimes change. And that’s OK. I stayed for a long time because I believed I should. This was my chosen path, my life’s work, my investment. This is where I should stay because that is what I expected. But no.
Emerson talks about it in his essay, “Self-Reliance.”
One of his most often misquoted ideas is that of a foolish consistency, calling it the “hobgoblin of little minds.” He tells us that “with consistency, a great soul has nothing to do.” Emerson addresses the issue of change, of contradicting what you once believed you knew. He says, “Speak what you think now in hard words and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said today.”
He tells us that “no man can violate his nature.” If we realize that our nature has changed, it is our human obligation to embrace it.
And so I loved school. I loved it hard and I loved it well. I loved it so much I wanted to stay. I learned so that I could teach. I loved teaching and I loved it well. Until I did not. And when I did not, it was time to go. And so, like Thoreau when he left Walden Woods, I left because “I had several more lives to live and could not spare any more time for that one.”
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This has been a Finish the Sentence Friday post.
Today’s sentence was “Something that I used to love and now hate is…”
Your host this week is the lovely Kristi from Finding Ninee.
Your co-hosts are Allie (this week’s sentence thinker upper) of The Latchkey Mom and Kelly of Just TypiKel.
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42 Comments
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FRIST.
This is really, really, REALLY good, Lisa. I felt immersed in the world of your school at the beginning, and through the piece I felt it slip away…and how you ended is quite brilliant.
LOVE IT. I really do.
And I’m glad you hit publish 🙂
FRIST indee. Thanks. It is what fell out, despite my efforts to thwart it. I am really glad to know it spoke.
And me, too.
Such an excellent piece, Lisa. I echo everything Lizzi wrote above. That beginning especially–very much there with you. And you know we share the love of the parachute (and only the parachute).
On a personal level, I’m really glad you wrote this. I had tossed around something similar, but then tossed it out in favor of my silly post.
I’m glad you’re flowing with your inconsistencies and finding what you love now.
Thank you. Means a lot coming from where I know this resonates with you.
And I did not think your post was silly at all – I loved that one. It made me think. It made Lizzi think, too, as I recall.
Sure did. I really liked it.
OH I SO MISS THIS HOP!
<3 Come back and do it!
Wow. Lisa, this is incredible. But, also sad. I am so sorry you lost your love. I can imagine, perhaps, that it had to do with what they make teachers do today. Teaching had become more of science and less of an art. You are held to such ridiculous standards. Our teachers (my children’s) are actually expected to log each and very communication (including verbal) that they have with a parent. They are also responsibly for maintaining a certain level of “hits” that their class receives on the on-line learning system. That’s hard to do in first grade. To keep her numbers up, my son’s teacher sends the newsletters home through that system. So I have to login, with my son’s password, and find the file with the newsletter. Ridiculous@ Rant over. Sorry. But it pisses me off that the profession which desperately needs good people is chasing them off.
It’s sad, Allie, but not entirely. All endings are also beginnings and that’s exactly what is true here. And yes to the things you say here – all true. I’m not saying our teachers should not be held to high standards, but some of the things that are deemed “important” simply aren’t. And the things that truly are – the things that once were – get kicked to the curb. It is a long diatribe that I probably shouldn’t start so I’ll back away from the soapbox for now. 😀 But you’re right – America desperately needs good teachers and these things continue to make it difficult for people to make that choice for that vocation. I’ve had people tell me that the love of children and the desire to make a difference should outweigh all the other nonsense. I think that’s a pretty twisted statement because teachers are still human beings and no human being can keep giving and giving and giving and not receive anything in return. I see that happen more and more. Maybe I’m selfish. Maybe my love for the students and the craft wasn’t enough. Again, I suppose it depends on the person you ask. But I know in my heart what’s true.
This is really well written, just as Lizzi mentions. It definitely took me, as a reader, along your journey. I kept thinking, well where did she wind up, where did she go after leaving teaching? Perhaps this would be a great lead in to a follow up piece for the next FTSF linky!
Thank you, Anna. I actually have written some about what I’m doing now, but if there’s a FTSF prompt coming up that fits, maybe I will continue this – great idea!
Lisa, this is amazing. Truly. I’ve got tears and all of the feels. I felt elementary school. I felt high school (and senior year, was one of the smokers in the bathroom). I love that you embraced your tomorrow even though it contradicted yesterday. I love this. And you. Thank you.
Thank you, Kristi. I love that you were transported back to school. And I love that you were a bathroom smoker. In high school, I would have been afraid of you! 😀
Much of me today contradicts the me of yesterday, contradicts the me I thought I would be when as a child, I imagined my life laid out before me. And that is a glimpse at my topic for this month’s 1000Speak link-up.
Love you, too!
I felt myself in school with you. And remembered my own love of school. The bathroom that has that particular smell. The hallways. The classrooms.
Thank you for this reminder that what matters is “being true to yourself.”
Beautiful, beautiful post.
Thank you, Nikki!
Wow. I had to simply sit and think about your post for quite a while.
You lived your love, then the love was gone, and you were strong enough to move on to where you can find your next love. That takes courage and strength.
Congratulations on your resolve to opening yourself up to finding that next love and your ability to articulate what you felt.
Thank you, Tammy. The one thing that is certain in life is that things change, always. Some changes we choose and others choose us. In either case, you are so right – it takes courage and strength to take the step toward whatever comes next. Maybe we don’t always know we have that in us, but somehow we do.
Oh my goodness, I love it!! Especially the last sentence. It definitely sums everything up. People change, we change, circumstances change, and the world around us changes. Good for you that you had he guts to walk away from your life as a teacher when you realized that it was not where your heart was any more.
Thank you, Stephanie. The last line is sort of brilliant, but I can’t take credit – those are Thoreau’s words. Granted, they are always burned on my heart because I have read them so many times. My decision was a long time coming. I did walk away, but not without a great deal of consideration. But when you know it’s the right time to do something, you have to make the leap if at all possible. This road is not an easy one, but so far it’s working and I know it’s right.
Lisa, this is for sure, beautifully written. The most giving, loving teacher becomes burnt out. It is the nature of the job. Because of the love of doing it and the caring so much. I am glad your choice was to honor YOU.
Thank you, Val. You’re right – that burnout is a real thing. Sometimes there is a way around or past it; sometimes not. I knew it was time.
Love love love love LOVE! Pretty much the perfect essay. Wow. Brought back sensory memories I have thought of in years. The Emerson quotes really spoke to me.
On another note, my mother was an art teacher and I was very fortunate to have excellent, passionate teachers along with some bad ones. The good ones change you forever, and our educational system is soooo wrong…. Hope you have been able to find fulfullment in another place.
Cheers and thank you for sharing. 🙂
Well that is quite a compliment – thank you! Emerson always speaks to me.
Our educational system definitely needs some work. And I know it’s easy to sit and say that rather than be the person who works toward change. But I knew that was not my calling.
Thanks for coming over!
The way you paint the picture of your school days–I just loved that and it sounded so similar to my own experience. It made me feel sad that you lost your love for teaching, but I think it’s great that you moved on rather than remaining miserable. I’m sure that took a lot of courage and there are many (most?) people who would just keep on keeping on until retirement because they had invested too much time or don’t like getting up or whatever things they say to themselves to justify their inertia and fear of change (which I understand, as I hate change myself!). Anyway, thank you for sharing this thoughtful post.
That’s exactly the person I didn’t want to be, Leslie – the one who stayed simply because it seemed like the path of least resistance. Only it wasn’t – that path was more and more an uphill trudge. I didn’t want to be the person who was bitter and cranky and I saw myself becoming that. That serves no one. I didn’t want to be the person who go to the end of my life and found that I had not lived, to once again quote my friend Thoreau. Life’s too short to punch someone else’s time clock – at least for me. I knew I needed something greater.
You probably spoke for many with this. I taught a class for 6 years that I totally believed in and thought was very special – at least in the first four years. By year six I realized, while I still believed in the mission of that course, I was tired of actually participating in it – which led to me not being my best self. Which made me aware it was time to let some fresh blood take that spot – someone who could bring back the passion. I hope they did. And that opening in my schedule was quickly filled by doing something else that I was suppose to do – and was able to do with a better attitude. Hope you have connected with your evolving purpose!
You have so accurately described a lot of what I felt through all of this, Shel. And yes, I think I’m connecting pretty well with this new life. I’m actually working on that post for the next 1000Speak. Thanks so much for your words here.
This was amazing Lisa! You made me remember what it was like in school. I loved a lot of the same things you did. The smell of a new box of crayons, and the sounds of my Trapper Keeper and the textbook covers my mom would make for me out of brown paper bags. I’m sorry you fell out of love with what was once your passion. But I’m so glad you are being true to you. The path of finding yourself will never steer you wrong. Loved the quotes too.
Definitely, Jackie! New crayons, a freshly sharpened bunch of pencils, and Trapper Keepers – I forgot those!
And thanks. It was time to write this.
I can see loving all of those wonderful sensory experiences. And all the newness and shininess of it every fall. The score-driven stuff… upsets me a lot because I have a kid in kindergarten and they already put the pressure on.
I’m a photographer but I didn’t start a business for years because I was afraid I’d lose my love for it. Granted, it’s very different than teaching and I do think I’ll always love photography itself, even if not the business of it.
I go slow, though! I put focus into making money other ways too because after all this time, it still makes me so nervous to do photography jobs!
Tamara, you aren’t kidding! I can’t believe how early the various pressures start. It was not like this when we were kids – not even close. Makes me wonder if progress and change is always a good thing.
Your plan for your photography business sounds very smart! May you continue to love it always!
This is a brilliant piece. I recently (although gradually) fell out of love with my major & chosen field and made an impulsive and risky switch to another. When we no longer love, we need to change.
I think it happens to people a lot, Sabina. And not everyone makes the change, it’s true, but what point is there to remaining only to be unhappy. I wish you all the best in your new major!
Shared. I am struck by your awareness of the need to leave teaching. And your courage to do so. Wow. Good on you! So many wallow in unhappiness.
Kelly, thank you. Sincerely. I can’t tell you how much your statement made my heart soar. I have had people tell me “but you have to stay” for various reasons – because of the kids, because of the time and money invested in education and training, because of the secure position. (Is any position ever really secure?) And they are valid points, but wallowing in unhappiness doesn’t serve anyone. I think I’ve said that like ten times on here already. But it’s so true. As for the courage…well, in some ways it was kind of like closing your eyes and jumping into the deep end of the pool for the first time.
Your descriptions of the school and gym, the hallways, the bathrooms were so vivid Lisa – I felt like I was right next to you carrying my books between classes. You really painted a powerful picture of love for a time in your life and then a vocation. I like that you didn’t try to explain the change of heart, that it slowly came on, that you’ve accepted it and that you many more lives to live.
I’m so glad to know that so many people found the detail so vivid – I love that! Words really can transport us. I suppose I could get into the change that occurred, but there are too many factors and details. It’s complicated and really unnecessary to get into here. It’s not the point, really. The point is that it happened, I made a choice, and I’m go glad that I did.
Thanks for coming to read, Lisa!
Wow Lisa… this is just so well written!! I nodded through it all, as you described your passion rise and change with circumstance and growth and new perspectives…
I think there are always changes and turns and different seasons we discover in our lives as we ourselves change and turn and grow in our inconsistent world.
I love those quotes. Powerful stuff.
Thank you for those lovely words, Chris. I never imagined this would strike such a chord with so many readers, but I’m kind of delighted that it has.
The one thing about life that I’m sure of is that we really never know where our path will lead. The best laid plans, you know?
Wow I love your ending Lisa, this a very encouraging peace for anyone looking to change their career path. I love how you painted the picture. Beautifully written!
Thank you, Kenya. The words of Emerson and Thoreau inspire me so much. I love to share them with others.
[…] from a fourteen year career in education. I loved my work and reaped great rewards from it – until I didn’t. I had actually hoped to start making moves toward self-employment two years earlier, but those […]
[…] from a fourteen year career in education. I loved my work and reaped great rewards from it – until I didn’t. I had actually hoped to start making moves toward self-employment two years earlier, but those […]