I am 2 half days away from the end of my career as a teacher. I can't lie, it is very bittersweet. When Eric and I made the decision to walk away from this profession, I was nothing short of ecstatic. Weeks later I sit here in a quiet classroom reflecting on my experiences over the last year and a half with mixed emotions.
I love(d) teaching. I am glad that God has given me this opportunity. It is cliche, but true, that I think I learned more from my students than I actually taught them. I went to public school, but it is a whole other world when you view it as a teacher. These kids just want to be loved and paid attention to. It doesn't matter their background, white/black/hispanic, broken home/loving parents, rich/poor. They crave attention. They crave discipline (whether they realize it or not). They crave love. No matter how sarcastic I was to them, or how mean, or how many names I called them, I still had at least 10 kids in my room every morning before school and 1 or 2 everyday during lunch. If I stayed late after school I am sure they would have been there too.
They all have stories. I have had kids that go to school all day, work half the night, and come home to a mom/dad passed out on the couch drunk. I have young girls that are so wrapped up in their boyfriend's that their straight A's turn to C's and mama wants to know why. I have young believers that think they know so much of what Christianity is and have to learn the hard way that they have only just begun to understand. It absolutely breaks my heart that I won't be here next year for the new bunch or the returning bunch.
I can take solace in the fact that my God is bigger than me. I don't have to be the one to "save" these kids. God ordained this new journey I am about to take, and he will send someone in my place for these kids. It is definitely not about me. That doesn't mean that my heart won't hurt for them.
I am leaving a part of my heart at Emerald High School, but with the security of knowing God hasn't left his.
