The Grief of Walking Away

Quitting your teaching job? If you’ve dedicated your entire career to it, it can be one of the hardest things you do.

I was in my 13th year in Denver Public Schools, teaching 4th graders. It wasn’t even the end of September when the anxiety took over, completely. August was particularly hot that year and being on the second floor of a non-air-conditioned building was gruesome. We kept a thermometer on the classroom wall. I watched the students melt before my eyes. We put damp paper towels on our foreheads and the back of our necks, we had room temp water on our desks, and we even misted ourselves with spray bottles. It was absolutely impossible to concentrate. I felt so bad for them. Some students felt so sick from headaches they had to leave early and miss lessons. One afternoon I saw that it was 98 degrees inside the classroom so I snapped a picture of it and sent it in an email to the Superintendent. In the email, I requested an all-day field trip to the district’s central, air-conditioned, offices. (Not all of my choices, in the end, were good ones).

Depleted and Sick

I came home every day with heat exhaustion, migraines, and complete depletion.  My wife reassured and encouraged me to keep going, for the kids, if nothing else. And the kids! They were amazing. I tried to explain to anyone who would listen, that it wasn’t the students’ behavior that was too hard. Although the return from Covid was a hugely difficult transition for them. The students were the only reason I could drag myself out of bed every day.  What I couldn’t do anymore was play a rigged game that worked against itself. It wasn’t the kids or their families. It was the politics of the board. The over-testing. The arbitrary rules. The empty words of support, and the absolute hypocrisy of the entire American public school system. It was unrecognizable and so was I. After almost 30 years, I was done!

The Physical and Mental Exhaustion

Suffice it to say, I left the building every evening, wearily walking to my car. As soon as I sat behind the wheel, I would exhale for the first time all day. I never left right away. Instead, let the air conditioning blast my face so I could steady myself for the drive home. I knew I had to hold back the tears until I made it there safely. And then tears came. With each week that passed the tears became sobs, and then eventually almost nightly panic attacks. After yet another evening much like the others, after hours of talking, we concluded. If I didn’t take a step back from teaching then my health, both mental and physical would force me to. 

Around the 15th of September, I told our principal I would be taking a medical (mental health) leave of absence. I wasn’t planning on telling her this day. We had an hour-long meeting about how to prep our kids for the next batch of standardized tests. I was angry from the start. Why were we spending so much time on testing knowing that the kids weren’t emotionally, or academically ready? After 20 minutes, I had heard enough.

Do What’s Best for the Students

She came to my room after the meeting. We sat at my kidney table in the back of the room. With shaking hands and flowing tears, I told her that I could not be the teacher I needed to be. I no longer recognized the institution of public education. But whatever this was supposed to be, it was NOT what was best for children.

My anger and depression were not what was best for these kids. Returning to full-time after the shutdown was painfully difficult. They needed me at my best. I could not give them what they needed.  

As she listened, she was supportive, reassuring, kind, and willing to help. But what I couldn’t tell her was that I had no faith, whatsoever, that she could help. That anyone could. They were all running in circles and dealing with the same crazy shit I was. Back from the pandemic, we were trying to sort out…EVERYTHING.  

Resignation and The Grief

The plan, initially, was to return after the fall semester. To start fresh in January. By then I had attended six weeks of outpatient group therapy. I wanted to make it to the end of the year so I could leave properly if I chose to. I believed I could find the teacher I used to be and bring her back with me.

But, as it grew closer, I envisioned walking into the school, and my classroom, and seeing the students’ beautiful faces. Instead of the confidence and excitement I used to feel, I felt paralyzing fear.

The doubt, anger, and grief I felt for the loss of who I used to be, came flooding back.

I took the draft of my resignation letter and reread it at least 20 times before hitting send.  It was December 15th, 2021. I said goodbye to a 30-year career to which I had given so much of myself. My heart and my soul were, and still often are, broken to pieces.

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Diane has dedicated the last 30 years to working with students and teachers in public schools across the United States. She has taught in Arizona, Washington, Oklahoma, Mexico, and Colorado gaining meaningful knowledge about how different systems work across the country. She knew early on that she wanted to be working with young people and brought her passion for social justice and equality to every community she worked. Diane has worked exclusively in public schools, all elementary level. Most recently, she taught 4th grade in Denver. She resigned in December of 2021 but not before helping her students establish the first LGBTQ+ Group at an elementary school in the district. Currently living in Bozeman, MT with her wife Stephanie and two pups Watson and Koa, she is taking some time to transition into the next stage of her career, whatever that may be.