on wanting to go to work.

I’m working on giving myself more credit. Four consecutive years of either growing a human inside your body or constantly nourishing them with your own milk-filled breasts, changes a person.  

With family first, career comes second and all that’s left for me are gracious moments, sprinkled in sporadically, offering me a chance to kick back and sip wine, read my book or drink a hot cup of coffee with my husband.  

Escaping the Mardi Gras madness this year, we found ourselves, kids in tow,  in Southern Florida sprawled on the white sandy beach, beside hummus and lettuce wraps and La croix- all the fancy stuff.  

“Ugh, I just wanted to lay out,” I sighed.  

“Babe, you have two kids, you can’t just lay out," my husband said so matter-of-factly.  

Zara’s bitty fingers were now dragging my hair through the fancy hummus.  Her toothless smile brought me back to reality.

Everyone’s situation is different, but for Michael and me, we’re in the thick of it right now.  Miles away from our hometowns and minutes away from peeing our pants because she’s...wait...she’s yeah...I think she’s alllllmost asleep.

So here I am, making a mental list of all of the things I’m doing right as a mom, as a wife, a friend, a daughter, a sister and a teacher.  

Mom or not, teachers, we do a lot of things right.  We just don’t do enough for ourselves.

Teachers are givers, especially of time, but we have to TURN IT OFF at some point in the day.  I have no choice with a toddler, a baby and a musician husband, but I wish I would’ve learned how to do this years ago.  

Eliminating all of the TPT shopping, grading in front of the TV, and the late night lesson planning can be life changing.  Setting boundaries with parents, administrators with and coworkers about not responding to work-related emails and texts after 5pm is somewhat liberating.  

Aaaand, going on Pinterest searching anchor charts counts, teachers.  Yeah, in an indirect way, it’s your career, so it’s for you, I guess. But it’s work stuff, and the gray area can get out of hand.

Mental math means that’s 12 minutes times 5 nights, which is one whole hour a week you could take back for yourself. Maybe you could plan and cook a Pinteresty meal from scratch.

Being in the thick of it at home, I’m working on stealing moments in my teacher work day for myself. My colleague and I converted my classroom into a coffee shop (well, an itty bitty little space next to the sink, but still) and enjoy herbal tea and french pressed coffee in the comfort of our French Quarter classroom. 

Prep time is sacred (after I pump milk of course) and students know that’s teacher “meeting time,” and know never ever ever to disturb us.

Whether we dedicate time for ourselves, our loved ones or something else, we are in control.   Yes, I say this while typing one handed in the dark on my birthday with an almost- back-to- sleep baby girl on my chest. Half past midnight with makeup on since 6am, content, though, as these moments with baby Z are fleeting.  

The truth is, if we don’t find ways to turn off the teacher mode, that role becomes our only role, and the resentment builds until it debilitates us and we leave the profession.  Or on a smaller scale, we resent students when they don’t pass out with excitement from our intensely planned project or do backflips of gratitude when we spend a whole weekend grading their essays.  

Maybe not in the first few years, but life eventually forces us to choose between being the all consuming teacher we think is required for the job, and the fully committed educator who has a life beyond teaching.  

Growing up, I dreamt of becoming professional dancer, more specifically, touring with Janet Jackson or Paula Abdul.  Though, grown-ups chimed in with, yeah, sweetie, once a hobby becomes work, you lose the passion.  It’s just not the same once you get paid for it.

I love teaching.  I get paid for it, and yet, it’s still a passion.  It is though, something I do, it does not define me or control me. It sometimes makes me cry and makes me question a whole lot, or want bail on this broken system, but it’s mine to embrace.

It's mine to love and hate. 

It’s our life’s work.

Teaching is harrrrrd.  It takes strength and self-discipline, and on some days, like little Peggy Ann McKay, we just don’t want to go to school.  I think, though, if we create boundaries between our professional life and our personal life, teaching might feel a little less like a commitment and a little more like a passion.  

Power to the teacher!