Just under three years ago I made one of the hardest
decisions of my life. I accepted the pain of my reality and with a broken and
humble heart I decided to pause my teaching career. I knew I was no longer the
teacher I needed to be or what my students deserved. The joy, I once felt from
being with all those tender hearts, was no longer with me. I had become a
textbook and worksheet teacher. I barked orders rather than guided growing
minds. I was void of patience and love. And I knew that each and every one of
those students deserved better. I deserved better. My family deserved better.
Thus, with my husband by my side and tears rolling down my
cheek I asked my family doctor to put me on medical leave. For me, work was the
last remaining realm of my life that said to the world, "I’m okay." It was the
last layer of the mask that needed to be pulled away. With that decision I felt
so vulnerable and exposed. With that medical note in my hand, it was an
admission to myself, my family, my friends and my colleagues just how deep and
debilitating that pain really was.
And so began a three year journey. A journey that was much,
much longer than I ever expected. When I first asked for that leave I thought I
would be out of the classroom for three to six weeks, but never three years.
For the past year I have played with the thought of slowly
returning to teaching. Yet, my heart has been torn. Each time a return to work
plan has been put in place I have become overwhelmed and paralyzed with fear –
fear that I will fail, fear that I won’t feel the joy I once felt, fear that I
will relapse, fear my family will be negatively affected, fear that perhaps
teaching is not God’s plan for me.
But fear is the exact opposite of faith – isn’t it?
So this past Monday, I courageously put my faith in my
Savior and entered the classroom for the first time in three years. It was not
my own classroom, but rather a colleague’s grade-four classroom in another
school. But, I was introduced as a teacher, not as a parent. I will be taking
baby steps as I build up my stamina by simply being in the classroom and
helping students for a couple of hours once a week. Slowly I will add more time
and eventually more responsibility. My goal, God willing, is to be in my own
classroom, once a week, by September.
On Monday, I was filled with so much anxiety that it
physically hurt. True to habit, I puked on the drive there – sometimes anxiety
just needs to come out! But, I got myself there. I walked into the school. I
signed in and got my volunteer badge. I walked into the classroom. I was
introduced to the students. Those steps appear so minor for they were once so
mundane for me, but on Monday they were mountains and Jesus and I conquered
them.
When I got into the classroom my nerves began to settle. God’s
grace has placed the sweetest little boy in that classroom. His spirit shines,
but academically he struggles with attention, reading and writing. This boy and
I have already become friends as I read with him, scribe for him and redirect
his attention – already I have a purpose within those four walls. God is good!
I planned to stay one hour and forty-five minutes – until
recess started – and I made it! I was exhausted beyond words (this coming from
someone who expects to be exhausted) and my head was pounding when I left. But,
I did it!
This incredible journey, that has Christ by my side, is
continuing – all the way back into the classroom.
“Being
confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to
completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 1:6)
