The Independent’s schoolteacher diarist gives notice.
March 15, 2006
In sixth grade, I picked up one of my mom’s National Geographic magazines and saw a story about people in Djibouti. I fell in love with the photographs and with Africa. I became obsessed with studying Africa and dreaming of going. I wrote stories about a young girl who escaped from her wintry home in New England to go live with the people in Djibouti, wrapped in bright clothing, gold jewelry hanging from her ears. The girl became a part of their community. To this day, I can still see those images in the magazine and I still feel the wonder I felt when I was 12.
I think it’s that wonder that’s driving me to leave New Haven. I’ve given my notice to my school that I won’t be returning next year. Instead, I’m going to pack my things and move far away, across the world. I have an interview next Wednesday for a job that would allow me to teach English in Japan.
Yesterday, I broke the news to my advisory. Many kids were excited; only two responded in a way that showed they were sad. A girl with whom I’ve been very close over the past two years got up and walked out of the room; and a boy sat quietly for the whole period.
This may seem like it’s coming out of the blue. I think certainly for my kids it was a surprise. But it’s something I’ve been thinking about since the start of this school year. I keep thinking about the Tom Petty song, “Time to Move On”:
“It’s time to move on, time to get going
What lies ahead I have no way of knowing
But under my feet, baby, grass is growing
It’s time to move on, it’s time to get going.”
I can’t explain the feeling inside better than Tom Petty. It’s a little bit of fear and unknowing, a little bit of restlessness, and a lot of not wanting to sit around. But it’s mostly about the knowing that the time is right. And as much as I don’t want to cause sadness for my students, I know that it’s the right time for me to move on. I don’t know how I know. I just do.