How I Broke the Cardinal Sin in Education

A Mid-Year Exodus: A Teacher’s Regretful Farewell

On Friday, December 15th, 2023, I officially retired from teaching. I get strange looks when I use the word retire. Most people expect to see a gray-haired teacher with years of experience retiring after leaving a legacy of students behind after their school district gently pushes them to rest and enjoy life. They don’t expect a 30-year-old teacher with only 7 years of teaching experience to announce retirement. Yet, here we are.

I choose to use the word retire because I never quit. No matter what I do in life, once I decide I am doing it, I will finish it. When challenged, I might take a break but eventually return to complete the task. Coming back is the beauty of retirement. Retirees can always come out of retirement, unlike quitters.

Jay-Z put out some of his best albums in “retirement.” I hope to do the same.

However, resigning from teaching feels more like quitting than retirement. Most importantly, I broke the cardinal sin in education. I left mid-year.

Here’s why leaving mid-year is damaging.

I abandoned my students

Teachers who leave mid-year cannot return from “retirement” to their students like nothing has happened. Students crave consistency. Even as they appear to rage against structure, consistent structure in school may be their only chance at normalcy.

When a teacher is absent, students lose their structure. A day gone by feels like a week, a missed week is equivalent to a month, and weeks going by are an eternity to students. Abrupt rips in normalcy explain how an elementary teacher taking maternity leave is equivalent to dying in their students’ eyes.

I remember speaking to elementary students before spring break 2020, expecting to see them afterward. We never imagined the COVID pandemic would close the school for the rest of the year. Not only did COVID end the 2019/2020 school year, I did not return to the school because I received another job within the district.

To them, I left them. They expected to see me return after lockdown, but I never did. My students couldn’t grasp that my move was out of my hands. Like everything else with COVID, a break in school norms disrupted students, and I was partially to blame. COVID took their PE teacher, and nothing was the same again.

I quit on them even though I’d see many at junior high school. To this day, those students ask why I left them.

Hated or loved, I was a consistent teacher. I rarely missed school. Students could have hated seeing my face daily, but at least they knew they could count on seeing my smiling face.

Now, they may not ever see me again.

For the students who viewed me positively, how do I explain to junior high students that I abandoned them for personal gain? What job could be more important than finishing the year with them?

No one will fill my position

As I walked out the door for the last time, I did not deserve flowers and a clap-out by students, staff, and faculty. I did not receive a retirement party with balloons and a cake with all my years of servitude. There is no ceremony for the teacher who quits mid-year, nor should there be.

We are in a teacher exodus with a rapid growth of new schools in the area. The student-to-teacher ratio is exploding, external politics add unnecessary burdens to teachers, and our public schools do not have the funds to mitigate the damage.

As I leave my position, I leave knowing the chances are extremely low for my former school to fill my position by the end of the school year. My position in special education was a rare commodity for school districts already struggling to fill vacancies, many of whom had already begun to be in deficit.

How could I convince someone to teach when I abruptly left mid-year?

The population I served was not for the faint of heart. Teaching special education took a level of patience that I have yet to find many to possess. It took creativity and constant flexibility to push students to reach goals they never thought they could reach. Most importantly, teaching special education took energy and a massive appreciation for the most negligible gains in a student’s academics that no one can see but a special education teacher.

My guilty conscience stems from knowing that no one is running to fill a teacher vacancy. College education programs are in decline, and I haven’t found one kid who dreams of being a teacher.

Now, my student will be left without a replacement, and deep within my heart, I believe no one could ever fill my role.

I wrote this because I do awful leaving midyear. I planned to land a new career as soon as school let out in May, but after 2.5 years of waiting for the perfect unicorn to appear, I realized I had to take what I could get. Due to the nature of my new job, I had to leave abruptly, and I could not control when I could leave. Nonetheless, I did not have enough time to say goodbye to all my students.

I will forever be a rip in their normalcy.

I know the students won’t understand now, but I loved teaching. I loved seeing students who hated school, especially Social Studies, engaged in class because my class was “different.” I loved taking a student who only saw the NFL as their only option, yet because of me, they play chess. Or, the student who loved music, so I brought my record player with classic pieces of vinyl.

To all the teachers and former teachers, please know that teaching is the most challenging and beautiful job you’ll ever have. There is no instant gratification, appreciation, or reward for the hard work of teachers. However, I believe every individual who positively impacts the world has had at least one excellent teacher who opened the door to new possibilities.