Before becoming a mom, I was a teacher.
I taught first grade for my junior practicum in college, and then student taught first grade with the same awesome cooperating teacher. Following graduation, I got married, and we moved into our little one bedroom apartment in the suburbs of Chicago, and I got a job as an aide for four second grade classes in the same school district where I did my undergrad work. That year, my job as teachers' aide quickly morphed into running remedial math programs and accelerated reading programs for the second graders, as well as some first graders, in the school. I was no longer "aiding" anyone but the students. The next year I got hired to teach third grade at yet a different school in the district and did that for four years.
I loved teaching, I loved the students, I loved my colleagues, I even mostly loved the parents of my students. I loved lesson planning and grading. I loved having fun with the kids and teaching them new things about our world. Darn it, I was a good teacher.
Then, through a series of random events, we bought a house from my husband's great-aunt and great-uncle, the house that had been in the family since it was built 100 years ago, and we decided to move back "home" where our families and roots were. Amidst all of that, I got pregnant. So, while we were living in Chicagoland, planning a move back to the Quad Cities, I was looking for a teaching job, but the positive pregnancy test let me off the hook for job hunting. Early on in the pregnancy I had several ultrasounds because of my previous ectopic pregnancy. At our second ultrasound, at about 14 weeks, I saw the little blob dancing and hopping about inside my uterus and I knew that no one else would be taking care of this baby except me. So, I stopped looking for work and resolved that I would be a stay at home mom. I just knew that this was what God had called me to for this season in life.
Later that fall, when Burkley was born, while it was a little weird for me to have all my teacher friends setting up their classrooms and starting off a new school year seemingly without me, I didn't really care. They asked me if I missed it and I confidently said, "No." I didn't. I was home with my little guy, happily in postpartum bliss, and maybe I was ready for a break from teaching anyhow. I didn't miss it one bit. I was also at that time working on my Masters in Public Administration and was gearing up for taking a different career route anyway, so I didn't really care that I wasn't teaching anymore. Additionally, a year or two before getting pregnant, I decided that for at least the first few years of our children's education, I would be homeschooling (another post for another time), which kind of made me struggle to keep putting so much into a system that my children wouldn't be participating in anyway. But still, I battled within myself: God gifted me as a teacher, but God has blessed me with a child and entrusted me with him. How do I reconcile these two realities?
Fast forward to this fall, the one we are currently in, when my teacher friends are yet again setting up their classrooms, holding Back to School Nights/Curriculum Nights, parents are sending their little ones off to school, and I start to feel a little tug at my heart. I want to meet my new students for the year. I want to set up my classroom with everything freshly hung and labeled. I want to inspire young minds to dream, reach for new knowledge, have hope that they can make a difference, mold minds and character, and all of those other wonderful things you get to do as a teacher.
So, I decided to venture down to my basement where all of my school stuff was still boxed up. It was the room we had yet to unpack since moving into this house over a year ago. The room desperately needs a water-proofing paint job and some new lighting, as well as some outlets installed in more practical places, but still, I had a room that I could use for my "school room." One day during one of Burkley's naps, I began to unpack. I got a little emotional seeing all of the curriculum, books, learning activities, games, manipulatives, and more. Was I "wasting" my talents? My education? My experience? What about all of the kids I could help learn and grow? What about the time, money, and effort put into developing myself as the best teacher I could be in those five short years post-graduation? Is there a way to successfully operate within a system that is so messed up? (I believe it is, especially in Illinois, and I also believe there IS a way to be a successful teacher nonetheless--but, is it my time to be that teacher?)
Anyway, I started digging out all of my school stuff and set up a little classroom there in my basement. I am now teaching, very part time, the daughter of one of my good friends. We are doing preschool, just twice a week for an hour. I am also doing some tutoring. In the future, I hope to add more students to my school and run a little homeschool from, well, my home. I have some friends who have expressed interest for their kiddos to come to my school when they are older. While I fully believe that play is the best way for little ones to learn, this little one I am teaching really loves "school" and enjoys the semi-structured time I offer her to learn her letters, numbers, shapes, etc. I'm looking forward to teaching Burkley down here and any of his friends who want to come too. Stay tuned in the years to come for more info on my little home-school in my basement. :)
I think I'll always be a teacher at heart. We'll just have to wait and see how that truth plays out in different ways through the stages of my life. :)
Check out my friend Sarah's blog post today where she describes in more detail what I'm doing with her daughter! :)
I taught first grade for my junior practicum in college, and then student taught first grade with the same awesome cooperating teacher. Following graduation, I got married, and we moved into our little one bedroom apartment in the suburbs of Chicago, and I got a job as an aide for four second grade classes in the same school district where I did my undergrad work. That year, my job as teachers' aide quickly morphed into running remedial math programs and accelerated reading programs for the second graders, as well as some first graders, in the school. I was no longer "aiding" anyone but the students. The next year I got hired to teach third grade at yet a different school in the district and did that for four years.
I. LOVED. IT.
I loved teaching, I loved the students, I loved my colleagues, I even mostly loved the parents of my students. I loved lesson planning and grading. I loved having fun with the kids and teaching them new things about our world. Darn it, I was a good teacher.
Then, through a series of random events, we bought a house from my husband's great-aunt and great-uncle, the house that had been in the family since it was built 100 years ago, and we decided to move back "home" where our families and roots were. Amidst all of that, I got pregnant. So, while we were living in Chicagoland, planning a move back to the Quad Cities, I was looking for a teaching job, but the positive pregnancy test let me off the hook for job hunting. Early on in the pregnancy I had several ultrasounds because of my previous ectopic pregnancy. At our second ultrasound, at about 14 weeks, I saw the little blob dancing and hopping about inside my uterus and I knew that no one else would be taking care of this baby except me. So, I stopped looking for work and resolved that I would be a stay at home mom. I just knew that this was what God had called me to for this season in life.
Later that fall, when Burkley was born, while it was a little weird for me to have all my teacher friends setting up their classrooms and starting off a new school year seemingly without me, I didn't really care. They asked me if I missed it and I confidently said, "No." I didn't. I was home with my little guy, happily in postpartum bliss, and maybe I was ready for a break from teaching anyhow. I didn't miss it one bit. I was also at that time working on my Masters in Public Administration and was gearing up for taking a different career route anyway, so I didn't really care that I wasn't teaching anymore. Additionally, a year or two before getting pregnant, I decided that for at least the first few years of our children's education, I would be homeschooling (another post for another time), which kind of made me struggle to keep putting so much into a system that my children wouldn't be participating in anyway. But still, I battled within myself: God gifted me as a teacher, but God has blessed me with a child and entrusted me with him. How do I reconcile these two realities?
Fast forward to this fall, the one we are currently in, when my teacher friends are yet again setting up their classrooms, holding Back to School Nights/Curriculum Nights, parents are sending their little ones off to school, and I start to feel a little tug at my heart. I want to meet my new students for the year. I want to set up my classroom with everything freshly hung and labeled. I want to inspire young minds to dream, reach for new knowledge, have hope that they can make a difference, mold minds and character, and all of those other wonderful things you get to do as a teacher.
So, I decided to venture down to my basement where all of my school stuff was still boxed up. It was the room we had yet to unpack since moving into this house over a year ago. The room desperately needs a water-proofing paint job and some new lighting, as well as some outlets installed in more practical places, but still, I had a room that I could use for my "school room." One day during one of Burkley's naps, I began to unpack. I got a little emotional seeing all of the curriculum, books, learning activities, games, manipulatives, and more. Was I "wasting" my talents? My education? My experience? What about all of the kids I could help learn and grow? What about the time, money, and effort put into developing myself as the best teacher I could be in those five short years post-graduation? Is there a way to successfully operate within a system that is so messed up? (I believe it is, especially in Illinois, and I also believe there IS a way to be a successful teacher nonetheless--but, is it my time to be that teacher?)
Anyway, I started digging out all of my school stuff and set up a little classroom there in my basement. I am now teaching, very part time, the daughter of one of my good friends. We are doing preschool, just twice a week for an hour. I am also doing some tutoring. In the future, I hope to add more students to my school and run a little homeschool from, well, my home. I have some friends who have expressed interest for their kiddos to come to my school when they are older. While I fully believe that play is the best way for little ones to learn, this little one I am teaching really loves "school" and enjoys the semi-structured time I offer her to learn her letters, numbers, shapes, etc. I'm looking forward to teaching Burkley down here and any of his friends who want to come too. Stay tuned in the years to come for more info on my little home-school in my basement. :)
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| The school room! |
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| My friend's daughter working on some schoolwork while Burkley looks on |
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| I've since added a few more shelving units where the cardboard box is |
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| I had A LOT of resources to file-- there's even a pile on top of those two stacked filing cabinets! |
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| As you can see, we desperately need to paint, which is why I haven't hung the chalkboard or any posters yet. Plus, a sneak peek of my laundry room out that door there! :) |
I think I'll always be a teacher at heart. We'll just have to wait and see how that truth plays out in different ways through the stages of my life. :)
Check out my friend Sarah's blog post today where she describes in more detail what I'm doing with her daughter! :)
Aaaah, this made me smile. My teacher-days are so far behind me that I don't miss them AT ALL. Good for you for finding a way to honour your talents along with your joy in mommying.
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