Why I left Teaching

I had already made my decision to leave teaching by the time the 21-22 school year began. I was completely exhausted and didn’t have it in me to put forth any more expendable energy into my craft. You see, throughout my 20+ year career as a kindergarten teacher, changes took place that made me feel as if my autonomy had been zapped straight to hell. And while my colleagues labeled me as a “good” teacher and an “expert” in my field, that acknowledgment still wasn’t enough to keep me going in a space where I felt unappreciated, overworked,  and lost. My love for my craft had completely dissipated with no intent to bounce back and it was a horrible feeling.

And boy did I feel guilty about it. For one, I loved being a teacher and being around kids. It fed my child-like nature and for that, I am grateful. My quirks and funny “one-liners” were accepted by my students and, I could reveal the things I genuinely enjoyed (like watching cartoons) without the fear of judgment from my age mates. In hindsight, teaching in the early childhood space allowed me to be free and most likely showcased my most authentic self. Regardless of all the joys and fun I had as a teacher, I just couldn’t seem to shake the disdain that was brewing for education in my gut. 

For one, the workload became almost unbearable. There was always a new initiative or mandate from district-level administration that seemed unnecessary and more like busy work than anything else. The constant collection of data to analyze my kindergarteners on their progress or the comparative analysis that happened almost weekly between classrooms (which they swore was not to make anyone feel bad) was frustrating. The insistence that we were not doing enough to help our students, the scripted curriculum, the focus on academics instead of developmentally appropriate practices, the paperwork, the strict schedules … yeah, it all became too much. As a collective, we teachers had lost our autonomy just as our students had with the insurgence of academics over everything in our educational systems. If education was a trust fall activity, the administrators, district-level personnel, and policymakers would have certainly let the teachers fall to the ground. There was no trust in our abilities to teach what our students needed, leaving our hands tied, essentially forcing us to conform to practices that were starkly against our educational philosophies. 

And all while this was going on, I was enrolled in a doctoral program. Literally in my last year, my faith in higher education was shaken. For some reason, I believed higher education to be “better” than general education due to some of the greatest minds coming together to find a better way to educate through research and advocacy. And so that became my goal: To become a professor and conduct research to find solutions to the issues I and many of my colleagues in early childhood experienced almost daily. But my kumbaya view of higher ed came to a crashing halt when I experienced what my advisor at the time described as an egregious act occurred right after my qualifying exam. I won’t go into detail about what happened, but know that this awful experience shed a crystal clear light on what I would be dealing with in the world of higher ed, and led me to this conclusion: some folks with credentials have a god complex that even the earth’s gravitational pull couldn’t hold. While I am gracious to those who helped me through and found a solution to the problem that shouldn’t have been, I will never forget the way I felt during that time. 

But when I tell you that experience lit a fire under me, I mean it! Winter of ‘22, I had a new fervor to finish my doctorate. And it became clear, that I was leaving education come hell or high water, simply because I wanted to show those pretentious folks that I was very capable of succeeding in higher ed spaces, even if they didn’t think so. By the summer, I was done collecting my data and writing my dissertation on kindergarten teacher perspectives of play and academics in modern kindergarten classrooms. I officially resigned from my teaching position in June of ‘22 and graduated with my doctorate in December of that year. 

And so here I am, not a professor, but working in higher education nonetheless. (Apparently, my non-experience in research, publications, and lack of teaching experience in the higher education sector was enough to disclude me from the illustrious club of credentialed gravity evaders, but I persist. I worked full-time as a teacher that whole school year and so yes, my resume was a little sparse in that area. And yes, I am constantly battling imposter syndrome because of this, but I will keep going as I always have). And my empathy for teachers has grown as I continue to dialogue with educators and my colleagues about their current teaching experiences. It’s so much worse than I could’ve ever imagined when I left, and my heart goes out to them. 

Still, I am grateful to be on the other side of that mountain in my new position (it’s been a year), with little to no micromanagement. Do I miss the children? I do, every day. I was blessed with the sweetest class in my last year of teaching which made it even harder to leave. Even so, it was for the best. Do I miss teaching? A little. There are times when I catch glimpses of things that induce nostalgia and spark my envy a little bit, but then my teacher friends bring me right back to reality, lol. Would I go back to teaching? Absolutely not. I would rather share my expertise with the world with no restrictions than place myself in a situation that affects me mentally ever again. I am currently working on my website and some other projects that I think would be beneficial for teachers and parents alike. And once I defeat the final boss (imposter syndrome), I might even step forward and show those credentialed gravity-resistant folks a thing or two, lol. 

The bottom line is to do what’s best for you as an educator. If you can resist by maintaining your autonomy and educational philosophy in your classroom practices, do so. If you’d rather leave the profession and find an alternate way to advocate for your educational beliefs, that’s fine too. Either way, put yourself and your needs first. Burnout is real, and I’m living proof of that. But I am also the evidence that there is an easier path on the other side of that mountain. 

Dr. Kee