frenzied dancing and much lyric-belting to Chicago and Bon Jovi by me and the hubs

Heh, believe it or not, I wasn't fired from teaching.

Actually, I was born to teach. The kids loved me and, despite the fact that I was teaching fashion instead of English the day the principal walked in, the administration adored me as well. And I loved teaching - at least the classroom part. But the out-of-class part controlled my life. Not just the grading papers part, but emotionally as well. I'm the type of person who analyzes everything and wants to improve in every way. I'd spend every evening replaying that day in my mind, thinking about all the things I should have done differently. And then I'd spend what was left of the evening thinking about how I would do things the next day. That made for an excellent teacher-me and an unhealthy rest-of-me. I know the first year is always the hardest, but when I looked at the best teachers in the school, ones who had been there 20+ years, they were all emotionally (and physically) exhausted as well. And very jaded. (Currently this state is overtaken with standardized tests that devalue true teaching and frustrate true teachers.) I didn't want to become that.

I decided to see what else was out there, and a job pretty much fell in my lap. That job (which I'm still doing) is administrative but still involved in education. I took it knowing that I can always return to the classroom. I keep my teaching certification renewed, although I honestly can't imagine going back. I miss the students something awful, but I don't miss not having a life outside of my job. I believe in working to live, not living to work. Some jobs fit within that philosophy, but teaching definitely isn't one of them. (At least not teaching well. And I can't do anything half-assed.)

It was a heartwrenching decision; I cried as I handed my resignation letter to my principal. But it was what I needed to do in order to have a healthy, happy personal life. Heck, to have any life. I'm just not willing to sacrifice everything for a career.

Rob and I worked sound for the high school baccalaureate service last week. Several of my former students were singing in the service. I was very pleased that, even after 3 years, they were ecstatic to see me. One of them told me, "Ashley and I were just talking about you the other week. Somehow we got on the subject of our favorite teachers..." AWWWW. I deeply miss those kids. So many people seem discouraged by "kids today," but working with teenagers restored my faith in people. And seeing them again Thursday evening reminded me of how hopeful they are, how sincere they are, and how genuinely good-hearted they are.

Every teacher has funny stories from the classroom. (You should hear some of mrtl's and cat's.) I only taught for one year and forget most of mine, but I do remember a few of my Bridget Jones-esque moments.

Once a student asked me if I had a pencil she could borrow, and I responded, "I don't have any pencils, but you can borrow a PEN-is." I have no idea why the "is" came out of my mouth after the "PEN" - she looked at me for a moment, not sure how to react, and then said, "Okay." I think she was more embarrassed than I was.

One morning I had written "Next Class" on the board, listing several things one of my classes needed to have prepared for the next day. Later in the day, I erased part of the board as I furiously wrote notes for the class I was currently teaching. The kids had good questions, we had a great discussion, and then near the end of class I turned back to the board to refer to something I had written and ass was staring back at me. I burst out laughing and said, "Why didn't you all TELL me I have ass written on the board?!" They insisted they hadn't noticed. Yeah, either my teaching was THAT riveting or they were the most polite students ever.

My principal dropped in unexpectedly once, to observe me for a few minutes. I was in the middle of an involved explanation of how I had come to wear that particular outfit that morning. One of my students had complimented me on what I was wearing, and with me of course there was some story behind it. I think I was saying something like, "And THAT shirt looked hideous with the pants, so then I dug further into my closet until..." when he walked through the door. The kids, who had been smiling and chuckling along with the story, FROZE. I paused long enough to decide whether I should keep going with the story or switch mid-sentence to something curriculum-related. I didn't want the kids to think I was intimidated by having the principal in the room (which of course I totally was) so I decided to plow ahead and finish the story. I wrapped it up quickly enough, just touching briefly on how Rob had helped me decide on which shoes looked best. The kids were stone-faced the entire time, surely envisioning me getting fired that very day. I didn't, of course. My principal didn't even comment about it later, and if he had, I would have explained the importance of establishing rapport through fashion.