the post that i've been meaning to post since november. oops.

Reflecting back on my postings since my move out to California, I realize that they are incredibly superficial, simply telling you the activities that I did or places that I went. I admit this neglect of the deeper issues has been done intentionally. I know that if I were to unveil to you about what’s happening on a bit deeper level, you would probably do one of two things: one—back slowly into the far corner and avoid eye contact with me until I’m in a better mood; or two—buy a plane ticket out to California to save me from self-destruction.

I spared all these dismal feelings that I’m going to share with you until now because I don’t want to be that girl. You know, that girl who complains. No one wants to hear from a complainer (or maybe they do, but then only to offer a quick fix that minimizes the magnitude of the issue). I’m a pretty private person; I don’t like to be burdensome to others with my issues because they are just that—my issues. Unfortunately, I’ve hit my breaking point with this burden.

Trust me, I don’t need to be told that I need a positive attitude or that God will get me through this if I “lay all my burdens at his feet.” That’s the last thing I want to hear. And I don’t want your bullshit solutions or advice. I just need to purge a little. I know it’s fruitless in the sense that it won’t help solve anything. I know many of you would rather not hear it. I know most of you will start worrying or being concerned (please don’t). Although I’m not trying to be melodramatic, I cannot blanket the fact that this is very difficult for me. Here’s the grimy truth that exemplifies what’s going on: I am physically and emotionally sick of putting on a happy face. (Honestly, I vomit at school. I call these stress vomits. See, I told you you’re either going to want to run or buy a plane ticket.) I think I am falling off my psychological rocker.

Surprise! I’m struggling.

I know your first year teaching is supposed to be hard—that’s no surprise. I’ve heard the tales from across the board. Now, the very nature of who I am is to rise to challenges and excel. That’s what I enjoy doing. I enjoy working hard. I enjoy doing a good job that I know no one else can do. This, however, is not joyful. I can say there literally hasn’t been a day when I’ve woken up and was eager to get to school.

The first few weeks, I’ve never wanted to quit anything so badly in my entire life. I was in the lowest of low places that I have ever been. There was a darkness inside me that scares me to this day. And while I still feel that darkness creeping in around the edges, it is no longer every day. Somehow I survived first quarter (I’m certain it was more God sustaining me than anything I did or asked him to do).

I had the highest hope that somewhere along the line that there would be some kind of break, and it would get at least somewhat easier at I settled in with the kids and a routine. But rounding the corner into quarter two, I felt so far entrapped in the murkiness of details and busyness of teaching that I couldn’t tell which direction was up anymore. It’s like I’m attempting to run a marathon, but I have 20-pound weights tied to my ankles and wrists. My poor mother has been my sounding board when I divulge about this drudgery. She is a saint. She is the one that I call and reek my emotional havoc on. This is a terrible thing for a daughter to do to her mother. But she’s the only person I can do this too without feeling too much guilt.

It is true that I envy just about any other employee of places that I go—the intellectual Barnes and Noble book stocker, the grumpy Starbucks barista, the hippie Trader Joe’s cashier. So what is it that makes it so bad?

My Job:

• I have 6 preps. (A surprise to me when I arrived in August.)
• There was no syllabus or curriculum in place when I arrived. Each day I build from the ground up.
• I am the only person in the language arts department. No available mentors, really.
• Assessing and grading language arts is not like math or history or science or bible, mainly in regards to time (hours upon hours outside of school each week).
• I work for Bay Area private school parents who have a ludicrous sense of entitlement.
• I teach Bay Area private school kids who along with a sense of entitlement have also been told their whole life that they can do no wrong and that don’t have to take responsibility for their actions.
• I work for a school that is struggling so much that it has to adhere to that sense of entitlement in attempt to keep enrollment up so it can pay its teachers.

This job has incredible effect on the rest of my life, mostly in regards to time. Because I have to work, I have no time for anything else.

• I don’t sleep.
• I don’t have friends—okay, maybe two.
• I don’t have hobbies.
• California is big, crowded, and confusing.
• I feel spiritually destitute.

So life sucks right now, I guess, right? That’s the takeaway? Oh, I know I have blessings. Didn’t you see my last few posts? I have been desperately trying to convince myself that I can be happy, and I can experience joy. But I think part of me feels that there are seasons to life, and this particular season is one of dismal darkness and depression.

The question I keep coming back to is this: Why I am teaching?

So what’s next then? Here’s where it gets tricky. I cannot fathom teaching another year at this current capacity. I do not like teaching—not like this anyway and in this school culture. Hands down. I might have been able to stomach teaching had I had a manageable workload. Apparently I've already been burned out (probably because some people think it's okay to light a candle from both ends in order to save a little bit of money).

The deeply rooted reality is that I am not passionate about teaching enough to care to do an excellent job. God is calling me elsewhere.

The trouble is that it would be hard to leave this school community. People have done so much for me since I’ve moved here from loaning me their car to buying me concert tickets. Not to mention, there is a built-in expectation that I will stay, continue teaching, and build up their language arts program (which, because of such a high teacher turnover rate—understandable—has left this language arts program floundering). And while I may have once upon a time be the person who had a “savior complex” and want to save the language arts program at this school, it is too much for one person to do. But this school is like a little family. I’m the new baby sister or daughter that people have taken under their wing. How do I deal with that?

Still, I have been brainstorming a list of things that I could do next year. I am not ready to move back to GR, I don’t think. It’s too soon. As much as I miss it, I don’t think I can go back now. I wouldn’t mind to continue living in the Bay Area for awhile. There’s so much here that I’ve yet to see. It would be a shame for me to have lived here for a year and barely had a chance to see the area. I want to start grad school, but haven’t taken the GRE (Grumble.) so my timetable is a little crazy. Here are some options that have been floating through my head. Give me your opinion, will you?

• Move to San Francisco and start grad school

• Move to Santa Cruz and become a surfer granola hippie that rides her bike every where
• Move down south (Los Angeles)
• Move abroad to somewhere to do something
• Stay in San Jose and attempt to find a career that would help me pay the ridiculously high cost of living
• Pay the bills kind of jobs: Barnes and Noble, Nanny, Starbucks...
• Be a resident director somewhere
• CCO
• AmeriCorp in San Jose
• Work with Erin in Wyldlife and Younglife
• Private tutor
• Teach in the public schools
• Just move to Stanford or Berkeley and look just pitiful enough that they’ll give me an incredible scholarship. Or maybe I can tell them my story of teaching this past year, and they’ll give me something great like a GRE exemption or something.
• Marry the rich software engineer who lives in Palo Alto
• Marry my neighbor (he does have superior beer pong skills—I’m sure he’d make a challenging and fun spouse)
• Marry the professional baseball player that I flirted with all dinner at Thanksgiving

Life is full of seasons. This particular season is a difficult one, one in which I am unable to pull myself up by my bootstraps. God is doing incredible work on me. It totally sucks. I am hopeful that the seasons will change soon.

Phew. That felt good. If you read it, props to you for your reading loyalty!