Wait, I'm Not a Teacher?

Hold up. Looking at the date when I posted that last blog brought on the heavy realization that I am NOT starting the teacher workdays with the rest of my old colleagues and TFA corps members. As much as I know that I do not belong in the classroom, it's a hard thing to let go of. It's losing a part of my identity. It's changing the verb tense I use when people ask what I do.

I was a teacher.

A few weeks ago, I was browsing the book section in Target for my next summer read. I had tried to convince myself to read dry, boring books to prepare for school (hah) and ended up "just looking" under the Top Beach Reads category. An older women saw me and ended up recommending a book she'd just read, recommended to her by a stranger in a book store. We started chatting and I mentioned that I had a lot of free time having the summer off because...

I paused, contemplated what I would say next and proceeded.

"I teach first grade."

Teach. Not taught. The woman instantly lit up, and I instantly went crazy in my head. Why would I lie about that? I don't WANT to teach anymore. And yet I was still longing to hold on to that part of myself, even to some stranger in Target.

Of course, the woman had been a first grade teacher for 30 years. Of course, she told me that she would say many prayers for me that I had a great class roster this year (we are in South Carolina, by the way). Of course, she had to tell me that she could tell "by the look in my eyes that I love it."

You mean the look of sheer panic at what I just told you? The utter confusion of why I would pretend to still be a teacher to someone I've never met before? The frantic damage control with which I acted after I blurted out that lie?

Oh right. Panic, confusion, damage control. All key characteristics of teachers... I see where you got that from now.