I was sitting in an IEP meeting the other day and typically at the end of staffings we will sit and shoot the breeze. On this particular day, the people present were talking about how at one school they had a few teachers who up and quit in the middle of the year, which left them in a lurch and the kids teacher without stability. I had also recently announced I was resigning my position at the end of the year. So when our specialist looked at me and said, "I'm sad to see you go, but I'm also happy you didn't resign halfway through the year." My response back was, "I thought about it many times, but at the end of the day I stayed for my kids." That was when she said the comment that got me thinking. "Then you are a true educator." It got me thinking what does it mean to be a true educator?

At first I was offended that she had said that. So because I sacrificed my own sanity and happiness by staying in a situation that me miserable that made me a true educator? This was my second year of teaching and to say the least it was a disaster. It made me question whether I even wanted to be a teacher anymore. Most days I would wind up in a pile of tears in my office, a friend's classroom, an empty classroom, or you know in the middle of the cafeteria in front of half the student body. It got to one point in the year where I was so broken down, worn out, and had taken more than enough crap physically and emotionally that I went to my observer that day and told her I wanted to transfer to her school. They had an opening and I was 99% sure I wanted it. I was beyond being treated like I was nothing and bending over backwards for an administration that did nothing to help themselves. I was D-O-N-E DONE. I had spoken to the principal at the other school and was ready to sign the transfer papers, but when it came down to it I thought about my kids.

For the majority of my kids, stability is an unknown factor in their lives. As one of their teachers I was the most stable thing they had. A lot of my previous students confided in me with things that were going on in their lives that most of their parents had no idea about. I shared in successes, defeats, and breakthrough moments personally and academically. I've had soaked t-shirts from holding students while they cried. I've received beaming smiles from them when they show me something they've done or gotten because of hard work and I say I'm proud of them. I've had moments with my kids where I'm joking and bonding, and there have been other times where I have reamed them out for doing something that was beneath them. These kids are my heart and they rely on me just as much as I do them. If I left them what would I be leaving them to? I knew in my district great teachers were slim. If I left them either one of my co-workers would have to cover them or they would hire a day to day substitute that didn't know what they were doing and my kids would stop making progress. On top of that, I would just be another adult in their life who left and was the reason they no longer had stability. My kids had a great teacher and if I did this I would take that away from them.

I decided against leaving them, and stuck it out through the remaining BS for my kids. It got me thinking back to what our specialist had said; about being a true educator. Do I think being a teacher is for everyone? No, especially not after this year. Can anyone acquire the credentials to be a teacher? Sure they can. Does that actually make them an educator because they have a piece of paper that says so? No. This career that I have chosen requires you to be a selfless person. You learn to put up with the stupid policy changes, deal with people telling you what to do when they have no idea what they are talking about, and have people constantly blaming you for things that you have no control over. You learn that the most important thing is those kids and the reason you do what you do is for them. I think the silver lining in this awful year was I realized what it means and takes to be a true educator: having a true passion for teaching the kids you do.