I am not a quitter.

There’s not a lot about life that I know 100% to be true, but this I know for sure:

I am not a quitter. No matter how bad things have gotten and no matter how much I hate something, I have never once given up and walked away. I pride myself on the fact that I stay in the rubble, fight my way out, and do whatever I can to lead others forward with a solution. For the past five years and three months, I’ve sacrificed my mental and physical well-being for what I believed in. No matter how hard it got, or how badly I wanted to, I never quit. I made commitments to those kids, and I followed through with them. Until now.

I’m 27 years old, it’s September of my 6th year of teaching, and I quit. I’m 27 years old. In my SIXTH YEAR of teaching. And I’m burnt out.

You heard me. I burnt out at TWENTY SEVEN. To tell you the truth, I was completely burnt out at 26. By the end of my fifth year of teaching, I was re-considering everything I’d ever wanted in my life. I questioned why I even became a teacher. I wondered who I would be if I poured my heart and soul into literally anything else. But I gave it another try. I spent the summer recharging my mental health, and I came into my BEST year of teaching yet. The past four weeks restored my faith in myself and my ability to do this job. I loved every second with my students. We laughed, we played, we learned, and we grew. I was so happy. I am not burnt out because of the kids. I’m burnt out because for 5 years and 3 months I have been fighting a flawed system. A system that believes teachers are the end all be all for the success of a student. A system in which I get paid a healthy minimum wage salary (when you actually sit down and do the math about how many hours teachers really work each week) to be a provider of safety, security, love, rules, consequences, and EDUCATION while the media swears up and down that my job is not important and is not to be valued. To be told on a first date that it’s “So cool” that I’m a teacher because “it must be so fun to play with kids all day.” It’s exhausting and, quite honestly, it’s degrading.  But you know what? For the past 5 years and 3 months, I was okay with that. I was willing to keep going because I was standing up for what I believed in. I worked my ass off. I brought hours of work home every day. I sacrificed my personal life, personal health, and personal needs, for the sake of my job, and I was proud of it.

On Friday, something changed. For the first time in my short career, something happened that made me realize I could not keep pushing forward. My values were challenged. My integrity was put on the line. No matter how badly I wanted to keep pushing forward for my coworkers and my kids, I couldn’t do it at the sacrifice of what I believe in. I’ve thought about quitting so many times. Most people don’t know that. But on Friday, for the first time, I realized that I cannot continue to push forward in a system that contradicts my every belief. This problem is bigger than me, it’s bigger than the schools I’ve worked in, and I’m not sure who has the answer. (However, I’m happy to make a list of some people running our country who do NOT.) I don’t believe my passion for education will ever end, but I do know that now is my time to finally take care of myself.

On Saturday, with the help of my mom, my dad, and two incredible co-workers, I cleaned out the classroom that I'd made into a home for myself and my students for the past three years and three months. And I fully acknowledge the many privileges I have that allowed me to do that.

I let people down. I disappointed myself. I wish I didn’t have to do it. But this decision was the first time in a long time where I stood up for MYSELF. I have one life. This is what I was given. And I’m positive that my passion for justice in education will find its place somewhere else in my life. Maybe that will be teaching, or maybe it will be something entirely new. I’m not totally sure at this point. What I do know, however, is that for the first time in 5 years and 3 months, I am no longer defined by my career. I’m not sure who I am without that, but I fully intend to find out.