Retiring from Teaching in Person to Step into the Fear

I never wanted a career in education. People told me I would be good at it, and I followed their direction. My first job in education began in January 2000, working as a 1:1 classroom aide in a separate special education program. This semester, as I drive 40 minutes in one direction to teach a 49-minute class, I practically pass my first classroom. I have been in many classrooms, across nine school districts, one adult education program, and five colleges/universities. For three of the school districts and two of the colleges, I taught at locations beyond the "main campus," so I've lost track of the actual number of locations. I have never had a consistent classroom at the college level either, so to recall the number of actual classrooms would be impossible. This semester I am teaching six classes, with two of them split across accelerated classes. So, technically, right now I have five classes and will lose one soon and start one again officially in 24 days. 

But, the point of this is not to recount the nearly 25 years of my career thus far. I attempted that. For a course a couple quarters ago, I attempted a video series documenting my journey. I had called the series "Best of Everything Moving Forward." I had recorded some summary videos for the first several years, with information that began to take its toll. I couldn't relive some of the teaching trauma that still affects me. Plus, in all practicality, I would have had multiple hours of content to record for a class project and I simply did not have the time to commit with my schedule. More importantly, it would have only continued to keep me stuck in the past.

On another level, I started to worry that people would access the content and I would "get in trouble" for documenting my journey. I was eliminating identifying markers already and that made it inauthentic. I worried that it could affect my teaching career. This only kept me further entrenched in a lifestyle that has not been working for me for a long time. Years ago I published an article called "An Adjunct Quits." Clearly, I stayed with the field because I thought it was all I know that could earn me a living. I have tried "quitting" before with moves across the country to study acting as an older student and other attempts to market myself as an actor, a playwright, a media presence, a faculty mentor, a start-up entrepreneur, a proofreader. But, I would always attend to these in all or nothing bursts. I would dedicate my energy just to one concept and move on when that did not work. I've seen Instagram accounts, YouTube channels, and even Blogger entries start and end just as quickly. When I was beginning my doctoral journey, I had a blog with a tag line of "From Adjunct to Administrator." I took that down because I don't think that's my path either. Plus, the effort put into those posts and the extremely limited audience I reached did not result in high return. Even as I have composed this, I have been thinking of how few people will actually read it. 

Yet, I write. I write because I am not happy in my paid career. Even when I doubt my abilities, I know I'm good at my job. Most of the stress I experience comes when I compare what is being presented to me to what I have been conditioned to feel should be done. There are multiple concepts I could explore as to why teaching and more specifically teaching in person has just burned me out, but I'm tired of telling that story.

Moreso, I'm tired of consistently putting my mental health on the backburner. I had been assigned three online classes, which I was looking forward to leading. I love online teaching. In general, I feel considerably less stressed when not factoring in schedules and commutes and the time needed to be presentable in front of all the eyes. But then I stared at an email for teaching classes at a high school with a pit in my stomach as I convinced myself it would be okay. The same reasons I left high school 15 years ago are still present and so much worse. But, it's not limited to high school immaturity. I face classes where people are checked into their phone and even streaming video in a class I took over the day before it began. It's not the majority of students, but it's who I focus on in the physical room. I'm tired of even needing to think about that. Due to deeply rooted issues with conflict, I let it happen and if that hasn't changed by now, I don't imagine it will. I just don't have the right personality to continue into a 26th year teaching in person.

So, I'm planning my departure. There are minimal online classes in my fields listed for the spring. There are in-person options, but I cannot keep accepting them. They affect me in ways I can't always articulate intelligently. Also, I don't have to defend my choices. But, also, it's deeply ingrained in me that I need to defend my choices. These various forces have made my life complicated.

Being part of a doctoral program has changed me and thrown me for a loop in exhausting and beneficial ways. It has reopened my eyes to what I could be doing if only I left the 'security' of my current career. I designed a job skills training program for a class assignment, but it was only an assignment. Still, I managed to get 17 of my friends to follow a Facebook business page for a fake business. The page is still up without further contributions to remind me that there are other options. 

My thus far more intensive course this quarter is challenging me. The concepts are dense, and there is a lot of work connected to it. But, it is also providing me with a lot of clarity and insights into how I have self-sabotaged for years, all while encouraging others to follow their own paths. I need to take my own classes. I have kept myself in the role of the reliable faculty member who will take those classes that are not covered or who will step in the day before to fulfill their needs, without any security of his needs being met. 

In my other class, my advanced qualitative research class, I just yesterday submitted the cleaned-up transcripts from my pilot study interviews. I will continue to work with that information this quarter as I learn to code and create and defend my report. I had interviewed seven queer adults who have attended 'Camp' Camp with me. The organization hosts queer adults for a week of summer camp in the woods of Maine. I have gone three times in person. This past summer I joined the staff and taught theater classes. I expressed interest in being a rainbow group leader for next year, but that may be a saturated field. Nonetheless, I'm proud of myself for taking that leap. I mentioned my interest to a few people at Camp this year and heard encouraging words that I would do well in the role.

The work for my pilot study and increased involvement with the queer community is leading me to a more substantial and possible path. In my pilot study I wrote about my desire to engage with the queer community in a more meaningful fashion. While I do incorporate gender and sexuality 'studies' into my curriculum to some degree, I am not living fully in that identity. In the past I did apply for a related role at the college, but I did not get offered an interview. I know there's an entire world of opportunities that connect to this style of leadership. But, I don't have those contacts. Or, at least, I have not had those conversations. 

I "don't know" the world outside of teaching. I want to. I need to. I've made my impact on the teaching world. I'm in a doctorate program for educational leadership. The program covers education but also the greater organizational constructs in the world. That big scary world I don't know.

Yet, like I hear from many students who are taking a risk, I need to be brave and face the fear of losing everything to 'start again.' I imagine I will be offered some online classes; I usually do. I need to look more purposefully for online teaching opportunities while also finding the inevitably in-person career(s). The true challenge is to not give into the safety, to not accept the one or two classes per day that prevent me from committing to something more meaningful to me. 

It is scary, but I need to step into that fear or be stuck in this role for another 20 years. It is scary because I intend to post this across my social media accounts, which includes people from work. It will create awkward moments since I still have two and a half months of classes. But, the advice of my mother still rings in my ears: it's easier to find a job when you already have a job. Thus, I'm not just flat- out quitting education. I'm changing the field in which I work. I still believe that the nearly three years of teaching online solely were some of my best teaching experiences. I fully embrace the possibilities of online work, and I know there are sources out there I have been too hesitant to tap into out of a fidelity to "my work." 

The time has come.

The fear is here.

But so are the possibilities.