Finally Breathing! March 10, 2008

Our mothers gave birth to us. Our fathers may be around to watch our childhood jumped to adolescence. We attended school, found friends, skipped classes and finally decided on a course. It would be fortunate if we were able to finish college. We do our parents proud but what’s next for us? Finding a job.

Acing an interview and being asked to sign a contract are part of joining the race to survive. With the first paycheck comes bills to pay and then we realized, we have become fully-grown adults. We wake up early to commute to work, avoid being sick, work (hopefully not kiss the ass) under our bosses and wait until the end of work hours. We do this 5 days, maybe 6 days a week to pay for needs and acquire some luxuries. Our jobs keep us off the street and society is nicer to employed citizens.

I have been teaching close to ten years. It was not the first job I had. I was a Hotel Supervisor, a fast food supervisor, and a researcher before I ventured into the classroom. My own family was surprised when I announced that I took a teaching position. Given my less stellar performance during my academic years, they thought I was just frustrated with the job market. Matters became serious when I decided to pursue a master’s degree in special education. Truth was I wanted to excel in the field thus I learned ABA, sign language and behavior modification techniques. I was happy teaching my students. I unabashedly proclaimed my affection and concern for them. That was the moment, my job defined me.

I came to New York to teach. I saw the big difference immediately. Adjusting to a new place, juggling the stress working for foreigners and being homesick, my faith as a teacher wavered. I could not count the times I doubted myself as an educator. I felt that all my studying were useless. I wanted to give up but New York never gave up on me. Four years passed and I was still teaching. As each schoolyear unfolded, I became stronger. Stress from making lesson plans, beating deadlines for paper work and dealing with difficult supervisors were part of my world already. Again, my job dictated my thoughts and actions.

One day, I woke up in tears. I did not want to go to work. I dreaded being in the building. My chest was gasping for air and my heart was pumping more blood than I imagined. The inevitable happened. It caught me finally. I knew at that moment. My job was my own war zone.

There are countless things I learned from my job. It entailed more than patience to teach. I often tell people that working as an educator takes at least 80 percent of your being and the 20 percent are left for lesson planning. Throughout the years, I managed to add 5 hours to the normal 24 hours. I tried to balance my life between my job and family, preparing materials and having coffee with friends, choosing textbooks and finding a significant other, buying school supplies and having a blissful massage. You get the idea. It was fun yet so hard. It took a toll on me. I was just dismissing it, arguing with my own self and hating the fact that I was burned out. My love affair with my job came to an end.

So after much thought, I made the biggest decision of my life. I am taking a break from teaching. I realized I postponed pursuing my dreams because I had this job. I felt guilty when I wanted to learn too. Nevertheless, I took a pound or courage and here I am with an uncertain future. My heart would always belong to teaching but my life is taking me somewhere. A place that tells me “This is your time, take care of yourself, pick up the guitar and exercise”

After a long time, I am breathing as deeply as I want. Now I have time to stop and smell the flowers.