Return and Let Go

I used to teach. I cried buckets of tears when I left. I didn't want to, but I could not see another alternative. Apparently, I haven't cried enough. I returned to my old school yesterday and today (well, my old new school--same school, new building) to watch the annual spring programs. I had been thinking about it for a couple of months, deliberating, wondering why I was thinking of going, afraid that I was going to be interfering again like the last time I stopped by, afraid to face parents, students, and administrators. But, in the end I went anyway. And it was HARD!!! HARD!!! HARD!!! I could tell immediately when I put the protective wall up around me and I couldn't seem to break it down. I was guarded and unsure how to act. But, I saw something in three teachers that I worked with, something that I needed to see--the pure joy of teaching, the pure joy of students. And I came home and had a really good cry/sob session and let out some hurt, hurt that I didn't think still existed.

I am grateful that I can see examples of the joy in teaching that remind me of why I committed to teaching in the first place. I am grateful for the support I have received from parents, former colleagues, and most definitely former students, especially when I struggle so much believing in myself.