I used to hate them. My hate for Monday would start on Sunday evening, really, as I had to mentally prepare myself for another week in my classroom. Although I loved (most of) my students, I wasn’t happy being a teacher. It was tiring, emotionally draining, and I was always waiting for my “Lean On Me” or “Freedom Writers” moment when my class of tough, struggling teens would “get it” and fall in love with my class.
It never quite happened, but I kept trying. Kept coming up with lessons that they’d be able to relate to. Kept picking books that had characters who looked and sounded like them. Kept talking to many of them about the future.
But four months after walking away from the classroom I no longer hate Mondays and I’m not looking back.
What I learned over these past few months, and through traveling, is that life is too short to waste it doing something that makes you unhappy. And while I enjoy teaching and talking to kids about books, words, and life, doing so within the stresses and confines of a public school classroom wasn’t making it happy. At all. In these past four months I’ve been writing full-time, and although waiting to get paid for gigs causes a little bit of doubt about my choice to freelance full time to creep in, I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Had I not shifted my life and gone after what I wanted, I couldn’t have gone to London. I wouldn’t be going to Milwaukee later this week, and I wouldn’t be able to do many of the things I love and want to do. So I’m blessed to be here.
And I’m thankful. Especially for Mondays.
How do you feel about Mondays?