More Than Miss Gormley

So…I resigned.

That is still such a weird thing to say.

I’m 23 years old, and I quit my teaching job. I don’t have another job lined up, I don’t have some big, exciting career announcement, and I definitely didn’t have this planned out six months ago.

I just knew I couldn’t keep going.

And honestly, that decision has come with a lot of different feelings. Relief. Sadness. Fear. Guilt. Peace. Confusion. Probably every emotion you could possibly fit into one week.

Because even though I knew I needed to leave, that doesn’t make leaving easy. I really thought teaching was what I’d do for the rest of my life.

I went to college to become a teacher because I wanted to. I worked so hard for my degree. I dreamed about having my own classroom. I dreamed about putting my name on the door and finally getting to say, “This is my classroom.”

And then I did.

So walking away from that at 23 feels… strange. It feels like I’m closing a chapter that I thought was supposed to be the whole book. But the truth is, I didn’t leave because I stopped caring. I didn’t leave because I suddenly hated teaching. And I didn’t leave because the kids didn’t matter to me.

If anything, that is part of what made the decision so hard.

I loved so much about being a teacher. I loved the funny moments, the random conversations, the little victories, the moments when something finally clicked. I loved watching kids become more confident and seeing them get excited about something they had struggled with before.

I loved being someone my students could count on. And I will always be grateful that I got to experience that. But somewhere along the way, I realized that I wasn’t okay. I was struggling more than I wanted to admit. I brought everything home with me, even after I physically left the building. I was thinking about work constantly. I was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and I started realizing that I wasn’t really myself anymore.

And eventually, I had to be honest with myself. I couldn’t keep going just because I had worked so hard to get there. I couldn’t stay just because leaving felt scary. I couldn’t keep telling myself that I should be able to handle it when I knew I wasn’t okay.

So I chose to leave.

That doesn’t mean I’m not heartbroken. I am.

A weird kind of grief comes with realizing the future you pictured for yourself might not look the way you thought it would. For so long, I thought I knew what my life would look like. College. Teaching. My own classroom. Growing as a teacher. Eventually becoming the kind of teacher I always imagined I’d be. And now I’m sitting here at 23 with no classroom and no idea exactly what comes next.

That is terrifying. But maybe it is also a little exciting.

Because for the first time, I get to figure out who I am outside of the title I’ve carried for so long. I get to take a breath. I get to spend time with the people I love. I get to bake, create, write, laugh, make plans, change my mind, try things, and figure out what actually makes me happy.

I don’t know what my next chapter looks like yet. And I’m trying really hard to be okay with that. I think I’ve spent so much of my life worrying about having a plan that I forgot sometimes you can just turn the page and see what happens.

So yes, I resigned. And yes, I’m sad. And yes, I’m scared.

But I’m also proud of myself for knowing when I needed to make a change. Leaving something I worked incredibly hard for doesn’t erase everything I accomplished. It doesn’t erase the teacher I was. It doesn’t erase the students I loved. It doesn’t erase the little pieces of myself I left in those classrooms. And it definitely doesn’t mean my story is over. If anything, maybe it’s just getting interesting.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve been here for the classroom stories, the teacher moments, the funny things kids say, and all the parts of my life that have revolved around teaching, I hope you don’t leave just because my classroom did.

I hope you stay. Because teaching may have been a huge part of my story, but it was never the whole story. And I have a feeling there is still a lot more to write. My career may have changed. My plans may have changed.

But my story?

It’s just beginning.

❤ AG