A chance to write! And yet, my brain feels like mush. It’s as if every part of me wants to pour onto this page, but there’s no ink left inside to make sense of the chaos that is within me. But I have a chance to write, and I will take it! Are you ready to hear my story? I’ll share openly and honestly with you as you openly and honestly receive my words. Together we’ll make sense of the chaos and in the end, we’ll be better for it.
Ruby and my first day of school and work began on March 10th, 2025. The first week’s schedule was 9am – 6pm. I’d drop Kenton off at school first and then Ruby and I would go to our separate classrooms at our own school. Her room was only a few doors down from mine. My one-hour lunch break was taken during the student’s nap and happened daily between 12:30pm – 2:30pm. I tried my best not to see my daughter during the day because I knew my presence would upset her when she would realize we were not going to be spending time together. On one particular day that week, our two classes overlapped on the outdoor playground. She on one side of the black fence and me on the other. Her little arm was stretched as far as it could reach between the bars in her jean jacket that was once her older brother’s. With a pleading face, she called for me. “Mommy, I want you!” I heard her voice ring in my ears and heart. Call it primal instinct, but when you hear your child call for you something switches in your mind. You become laser focused on the thing you love most – your offspring. I knelt down beside her, taking her hand in mine. I said to her, “I love you so much! You are so brave. You are okay, Ruby.” My whisper to her became shaky towards the end as I could feel my braveness evaporating. “We’re almost done for the day. Why don’t you play a little longer with your friends. I’ll watch you!” I said this as I slowly let her fingers slip from mine. I then backed away from the fence that separated us. Glancing around me while counting the little heads in my playground, I had my children from class to care for. Excitedly I put my teacher mask on as I ran around the playground with my kids. From time to time, I’d glance at my daughter. Her face was full of confusion as she watched me play with children she did not know. I knew this must have been the oddest feeling she had yet to experience with me. I feared she would feel as if I was taunting her in some cruel way. The truth was my heart was hurting more than she could know.
The first week pasted and we managed to maintain our same level of normalcy at home. We spent the weekend together taking advantage of our precious time. I’d wake early to complete household tasks in the hopes of not missing out on any of the fun. Monday’s arrival meant I had an early start to my work week. Most of my days were worked from 6:45am – 3:45pm with two of the five evenings spent doing CPR training for a few additional hours. On the evenings where I didn’t have training, I made it a point to first play with my kids before preparing dinner. As soon as we got home, we’d drop our backpacks, wash our hands, and race outside where we’d throw a frisbee, draw chalk art, and play in our woods in the backyard. The weather on these days, luckily were sunny and warm. On one specific night, we made smores in our outdoor fire pit using a glazed donut, a kit-kat bar, and a marshmallow in the shape of a snowman.
The week pasted so quickly; my mind was spinning. I literally felt like a hamster on a spinning wheel. Only this hamster wheel had an accelerator attached to it. The speed dial slowly inched faster and faster as the week carried on. While at work, this feeling manifested itself even more to me. After completing only one week of employment, my co-teacher fell ill and had to be gone both Monday and Tuesday. 10-11 little faces between the ages of 18 months and 24 months looked to me to care for them. I was responsible to lead the class while “teacher aids” cycled in to keep our student to teacher ratio in check. Along with this, I was responsible to implement the required curriculum for the day, and make sure all of my notes were submitted properly in the school’s system for both the parents and the leadership staff. Upon accepting employment, I was told I would have training with the Educational Coach prior to doing any of the curriculum with my students. They communicated that this Coach would shadow me for a day and provide feedback as we completed the assignments once my training was fulfilled. Unfortunately, that training was never provided. Not to mention, simply handling all of the necessary needs of each child was my responsibility to implement as the lead teacher – diaper changes, distributing and cleaning up a morning snack, lunch, and afternoon snack, and getting every child in their cot and asleep between a two-hour window for nap time.
And yet, I did what needed to be done! The more I gave the more responsibility was placed on me. Have you ever heard the saying, “sink or swim?” This was me. The more my employer put on me the more I carried. I was indeed caring the weight they gave me, and I was receiving praise for my efforts, but I could feel the warning bells going off inside as my physical and mental health was beginning to thin. Was my employer grateful I was there? Yes! They were indeed grateful I was there, but the gratefulness was coming from a place of desperation. “Finally, someone capable of holding all of this!” I am strong and capable. This is true, but I am also human and eventually I need a break. By Thursday I started losing my voice due to an illness. If you are unaware, as a teacher to young toddlers, having a voice is a necessary requirement in my books. I love each and every one of those kids, but they have yet to understand that climbing on top of the toy kitchen and jumping off may result in an injury to either themself or someone else. Simply put, they need a lot of assistance.
A few days prior to my voice going, congestion built in my sinuses as a strong head cold took over my body. By Friday of my second week my head had so much pressure, my throat throbbed, and the voice I once had was now only a whisper. That Friday morning when I spoke to Alexa on our Echo Dot her responses to me were also in a whisper as she mimicked my pitch. “One more day and then you’ll have the weekend to rest, Joy!” I said to myself in the hopes of calming my spirit. My co-teacher, earlier that week, supportively apologized for my unfortunate illness as I struggled to get through the day. Sitting crossed legged on the floor with three little ones bouncing in my lap, she commented, “around here, even if you’re not feeling well, if you are willing to work, they are just happy you showed up.” The word desperation popped into my mind. Glancing around the room at my little friends, I felt love and care for them, but I knew for myself this was not sustainable. The long hours away from my own children, the inability to have access to my cell phone throughout the day, not having the freedom to drink a hot cup of coffee when I wanted it or even having the freedom to use the restroom as needed, weighed heavy on my shoulders. I felt less than human as nine hours of my day Monday-Friday were spent within four walls with the occasional park play on days the weather was nice. This was not the right environment for me.
Once safely home with my two children, I began preparing our dinner. Tears filled my heavy, pressure filled eyes as I allowed the weight of my worries to pour out of me. My son, Kenton came into the kitchen and saw the pain I was drowning in. With his arms open to embrace me he said, “It’s okay, Mom. I can help you. Don’t worry. I can help take care of Ruby while you make dinner.” Pride and love filled me as I felt his arms wrap tightly around me. And yet, I thought my myself, “but you don’t need to carry my baggage. You are too young for this type of responsibility.” Once my husband arrived home from work, we both shared our feelings and observations from the weeks prior while our children ate and occasionally interjected their own thoughts, not all comments being relevant to the conversation, but the final point was received – this was not working for any of us. We needed to make an adjustment.
The next morning, after completing my yoga routine, and drinking my hot cup of coffee, I crafted my resignation letter and emailed it over. Upon arriving to work Monday morning, I spoke openly with my employer as she thanked me for the message I sent. In my resignation letter I sighted the following: “I sincerely wish I could continue supporting the staff here, however I know both my physical and mental health are telling me something different. Writing this today, I now see how unprepared I was for the demands that were going to be placed upon me- specifically the physical component of the job. Ultimately, the work environment I found myself in was not the right fit for me. I debated giving my notice this soon, thinking I should wait a few months in the hopes of supporting the staff more, however I felt time was of the essence as a new hire was starting and would eventually be working with me in the same classroom. My desire has always been to be completely transparent and honest with you all. Also, I thought of my toddlers. I feared the longer I stayed the more disruptive my eventual departure would be to both them and their families. By far the highlight of this experience was my kids. Their innocence and curiosity for everything around them is so precious. They each impacted me in different ways. Working with them was the greatest and most precious gift I could ask for. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to work here and for the support.”
Exhale. The weight I was carrying was finally being lifting!
Today as I write, I am no longer employed at this school. My daughter sits next to me in my bed. Her pink stuffed bunny wrapped in her little arms as the covers are pulled up to her chin. She glances up at me from time to time. When our eyes meet her smile widens as her teeth shimmer with happiness. She is so precious. In this moment I do not feel disappointed in myself. I do not feel shame for quitting my job. I do not feel like a failure. Instead, I feel thankful. Thankful for my husband and children. Thankful we are united in giving what we feel is the best for our family. Thankful my husband supports me and believes in me. Thankful he wants me to be the best version of myself so that our family receives the best version of me. If I am being honest, I surprised myself during this time. I learned I can take on way more than I thought I could. I could lead and love little ones in ways I didn’t think were possible. I tell people this all the time, “I am horrible with remembering people’s names!” And yet, in just a few days in the classroom I had all of my eleven student’s names memorized and I could recite them with ease. I changed diapers, cleaned booger filled noses, rocked sometimes three kids at once to sleep, and comforted every child when they needed extra love. And I did it all in the most chaotic environment I had ever been in. The little ones around me were in a constant state of noise. The overstimulation was palpable as I could see their fatigue on their faces. How do you find balance in the midst of so much unbalance? Somehow, I remained calm in the midst of chaos. I distinctly remember one day patting one child’s back with each of my hands while they laid in their cots for nap time. A third child was nestled in my lap as I sat crossed legged between the two. As I patted and rocked the children to sleep, I said the following to myself, “in the midst of the chaos, you be the peace. Remain true to you and you will not be shaken. Feel yourself breathe. Inhale. Exhale. You are okay.” In that moment, I took control of the room’s atmosphere. I made it peaceful by providing the peace from within. And you know what happened? They all fell asleep.
Let’s make sense of the chaos. Let’s bring in the peace and calm the room. Trust me, it can be done. Trust yourself. Respect yourself. And love yourself. When you come from a place of love for yourself that love will flow from you in ways you didn’t think were possible. Kindness and respect. You don’t have to have all the answers, and you don’t need to be the smartest person in the room. If you can come from a place of kindness and show respect for those around you, people will rally around you in ways you couldn’t imagine. They will support and encourage you. They will see the good in you as you acknowledge the good in them. A little kindness, a little respect, goes a long way. In fact, this is how mountains are moved, and it’s never done by just one!
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