Embracing a New Chapter: Not Going Back to School This August
For the first time in years, I’m not going back to school this August. The familiar excitement of a fresh start, setting up a new classroom, and meeting new students—these were the things that defined my life as a teacher. Each August felt like starting a brand new job, filled with endless possibilities. But this year is different. I’m not returning to the classroom, and it’s a change that comes with mixed emotions.
The Challenges of Letting Go
There’s a special kind of beauty in teaching that’s hard to explain unless you’ve lived it. Every school year is a new beginning, with a blank slate to inspire and guide young minds. The joy of setting up a classroom, the smell of new supplies, and the buzz of the first day—all of it made the hard work worth it. But this year, someone else will be in what used to be my classroom, making it their own. It’s a bit bittersweet, knowing that the space I carefully created for my students will now reflect someone else’s ideas.
I also miss the financial stability that teaching provided. It wasn’t always easy, but there was comfort in knowing that each month, I had a steady paycheck. Stepping away from that security has been one of the tougher adjustments. Freelance writing, while rewarding, comes with its own uncertainties—no guaranteed income, no benefits, just the ups and downs of projects and deadlines.
And then there are my teaching friends. I miss the camaraderie—the shared madness of long days, stressful moments, and the inside jokes that only fellow teachers understand. We were in it together, supporting each other through challenges, celebrating small victories, and laughing through the chaos. It’s hard not to miss the bond that comes from enduring it all side by side.
A Slower Life
Yet, as I step into this new chapter, I’m learning to appreciate the slower pace of life that comes with it. I’m at home, and for the first time, I get to be fully involved in my family’s everyday life. My son is starting at a new school, and I have the chance to be there for him in a way I couldn’t have if I were still teaching. I’m spending precious time with my daughter, watching her grow and change every day.
My mornings now start with the warmth of candles, the comfort of a freshly brewed cup of coffee, and the peace of journaling. There’s a quiet beauty in this slower life—one that I’m still getting used to. It’s different from the busy, fast-paced life of teaching, and sometimes I feel a bit uncertain about not having the same “professional” image I used to have. But there’s also a softness and a grace in this new role that I’m starting to appreciate.
Finding New Joys in Creative Collaboration
One of the unexpected joys of this new chapter is the time I now have to collaborate with my husband. He’s always been the creative energy in our family, with a thriving business that keeps him busy. Now, with more time on my hands, we’re finding ourselves bouncing ideas off each other, dreaming up new projects, and planning for the future. It’s a different kind of creativity than what I used in the classroom, but it’s no less satisfying.
We’re taking the time to romanticize each day, to reflect on where we’re headed and what we want out of life. One of our biggest dreams is to move to the UK within the next five years—a dream that, for the first time, feels possible. The time we spend together now is filled with conversation, laughter, and the deep connection that comes from sharing a vision for the future.
Embracing the New Me
This transition hasn’t been easy. There are days when I miss the routine and the identity that came with being a teacher. I miss my teaching friends, the ones who understood the unique joys and frustrations of the classroom. But as I step into this new version of myself, I’m learning to let go of the past and embrace the opportunities ahead. I’m writing more—both freelance and personal projects—and finding joy in the words that flow from my pen. I’m discovering new sides of my creativity, ones that were on hold while I focused on my career.
This slower life is teaching me to appreciate the little things: the warmth of my daughter’s hand in mine, the satisfaction of a well-written paragraph, the joy of watching my son thrive in his new school. It’s a different kind of fulfillment, one that’s not tied to a job title or a paycheck, but to the richness of life itself.
As I navigate this new chapter, I’m learning that it’s okay to miss the past while embracing the future. It’s okay to feel a little lost as I find my way in this new life. And it’s more than okay to romanticize the journey—to dream big, to collaborate, and to create a life that feels deeply fulfilling.
This August may not look like the ones before, but it’s beautiful in its own way. It’s a time of new beginnings, of slowing down, and of discovering who I am outside the classroom. And for that, I am grateful.
