Last Thursday night I went into a tizzy of love over myself, wherein in the words "I made it, I made it, I made" played over and over in my head, in increasing volume and giddiness as I stepped out of the last day of work for my first year as a teacher and looked back on my year with so much pride and awe I could not contain my glee in the slightest. Because I made it.
I took myself from that horrible law firm job where I became so depressed I actually got admitted into the ER and ended up needing a therapist and a cocktail of drugs, lying to the for three months and hardly believing it any myself, and took two months worth of teaching classes on every Monday night and full Saturday, while only two people in my life knew. Got myself a job, and then a not job, and then a job, because these people wanted me so bad, they made a holding pattern position job for me.
Spent three months, as a not-teacher doing all the jobs of an am-teacher, making less than I had when I was seventeen and had no bills. Became an official teacher at the end of November, when I was finally asked on the last day before Thanksgiving to become a full-time teacher. Spent eight months as a full time special education-English teacher, with a full case manager caseload, and an organizer for two different extra-circulars.
During that time I still had to continue my classes, getting 50 hours of Continuing Education, and finishing seven different internship projects. I endeared myself to my English coordinator and my Special Education one, who told me on the last day of the year that I was one of the easiest transitions into Special Education work she's seen in the whole term of her work in the field.
I walked straight out of my first year-year as a teaching, into summer school for STAAR blitz, with no more than two days off before training and then teaching started for that. Three weeks of straight blitz on it, then followed up with one straight week of retesting, and then suddenly I was free. Free.
Free. What a crazy, random happenstance of a word. I have so much planned for next year, for being a teacher and being moved to ENG I, with the longer term friend and teacher who helped me get this job, and a new co-teacher who is a straight up hard core geek just like me, and both my extracurricular groups, plus one more than said long term friend and I are making. And yet. That's not now. That's not even soon in my head. It's seven weeks away.
After a whole year of driving 40 minutes to and from my school, always being there early and leaving late.
And now, suddenly, with laughing and deep protectiveness of their free time, people shoo you to your summer.
It still utterly blows my mind -- coming from being a corporate girl for my whole life -- that for seven weeks I'm going to sit on my couch and do nothing, or do whatever I want, vacation, classes, tests, books, etc., and I will be paid for it. For Not Working. On top of that, I'll receive double paychecks due to the insanely higher amount they paid us for the last four weeks teaching in the summer. And I'll get it all while sitting on my couch.
It's a strange, beautiful world. I would not have believed you, if you told me last summer I'd be here this summer. I was so sick, and so sad, and so far under I couldn't see any light, and now I'm somewhere that in a whole year of classes and teaching and case-managing that I've never gone home sad or overwhelmed or depressed once. Not even once. It seems like a miracle. One I never stop thanking the universe for.
I made it. I'm not sure where I am yet, only that it's a beautiful place, and I have five thousands inspirations to keep me flying forward, making it even brighter, learning even more, and bringing beauty and laughter into the lives of all those I get the pleasure and grace of getting to do all of this with.
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