August 5, 2020

Grief.

Today is the first day back to school for my district. My teacher friends and coworkers are all back in their classrooms and cafeterias today doing professional development to prepare for the weirdest year ever.

And I am at home.

This is literally the first year since Kindergarten that I won’t be going back to school in August. That’s a 25-year streak broken. Sometimes I feel like the grief I’m experiencing about taking a year off is a bit dramatic. Like I don’t really deserve to feel sad because I am lucky enough to have this opportunity. But I’ve been in school in some capacity for 5/6ths of my life, and this year I’m not.

That’s a pretty big deal.

So, today, I’m sad.

I’m sad for the plans that are no longer. I’m sad for the sense of belonging that’s gone. I’m sad for the relationships I worked so hard to build that now feel abandoned.

I’ve derived a lot of my sense of self from being a teacher. It’s a big part of who I am, ingrained in the fabric of me.

Or it was.

I know that it’s just a year, and I am fortunate enough to have been able to make this choice. But today, it doesn’t really feel like a choice.

It feels like a loss.