Vulnerability, Updates, and Intentions

After three incredible conversations with a dreamy school, I had to write an honest email to withdraw my application. It was painful. The resistance that the “send” button gave me felt like a walk on deep sand. This school seemed to check almost every box I’ve been listing for a few years; sadly, the location makes it impossible for me to work there and enjoy life away from 2-hour commutes.

It’s been two weeks since that day, and I still sigh a little when I see the “We remain excited at the possibility…” response from the Dean of Faculty.

I haven’t worked at that many schools, but I’ve been lucky enough to move on to new schools that offer unique learning opportunities and challenges to tackle; each has been one level up. This school seemed to be the perfect next level in my teaching career. 

During that wonderful interview process, I was able to truly define the kind of place I’d like to be a part of and what teaching goals I could set for myself. When I left Egypt, I took with me an idea of the kind of place I’d like to work for next, but I was “hoping for…” not “looking for…”

Talking to this school, I imagined myself learning how to be in a co-teaching partnership, planning units of inquiry, and being part of coaching cycles. I envisioned the many professional relationships I’d build. I pictured ways to go back to my play-driven philosophy and come home every night with my pockets filled with drawings from 4-year-olds. It could have been a memorable new beginning.

At the same time, I know I’m at a point in my life where every decision matters. I moved away from early childhood for a reason. I’ve been swimming in the literacy coaching sea for a reason. That dream of mine leans against the wall, arms crossed, shy smile. Like saying, “How about now?”

That “Far, far away” school was very dreamy, and yet, it wasn’t the place for the big jump I could be (am?) ready to make. I still have a lot to learn, but why do I feel like I can’t keep learning while also doing it? Right there, between my eager capabilities and ego on a leash, my dream grins and nods.

As I sent that email two weeks ago, I landed in a place where there’s an opportunity to jump towards something, something that could be the beginning of it. Nothing guarantees I’ll make it there, so I keep a safety mattress to catch me if the edge is too far off. And that’s okay.

That kind of jump is not one I’ve done before. Until now, I’ve had the gift of time, time to show my strengths and what I have to offer. There’s been plenty of months to warm up before tiny jumps, like the move to third grade. I’ve had years and many chances to work with people who see my drive for improvement and thirst for new, better ways. Today, however, time isn’t on my side. I have to stretch myself in ways I’m not used to and, at the same time, be ready for opposite outcomes.

I can always land safely on that mattress, do what I love, and create new experiences. Have Morning Meetings, launch Writer’s Workshop, and plan fun Read-Alouds with a new class. I can also make it there, leap into a role that lights a fire in me, and do those same things with an entire school. In the meantime, I’ll dive into an inspiring reading mix that will help me prepare for whatever ends up happening.

Wish me luck.