To the one who has it all together

I have a tendency to hold onto things that I should probably let go of. A few weeks ago I was going through old high school graduation cards. As I was sifting through the pile, I found one that stood out to me more than the rest. In beautiful handwriting, it said, "To the one who has it all together."

Around that time I was cleaning out old trophies and medals and found a similarly amusing phrase. Engraved at the bottom of one trophy, I read "Matt Graham: Most Likely to Succeed."

I'm not sure exactly what part of my life has lead people to believe I have it all together. Maybe it's because I have red hair, and that throws people off. Or maybe it's because I like taking cool pictures. Or maybe they think saying it will make it true. I'm not sure.

It's so easy for me to look at the highlights of other's lives and think "I want that." It's much more difficult for me to understand that there are plenty of negative aspects of their lives as well. We all have struggles. We all face trials. But we want the good without the bad. Why do we want such shallow rewards?

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About halfway through the year, it hit me: I might not make it. As someone who has spent his life moving forward, it confused me to realize that I may finally need to take a step back.

I'm not sure if this realization should've shocked me; I learned in college that nearly 50% of new teachers are done within the first five years (and that number rises for those teaching science). I still remember sitting in class when the professor told me this. I recall looking around and arrogantly thinking that I could figure out exactly who would make it and who wouldn't.

I wasn't always going to be a teacher; at first I thought I'd be an engineer. I think I would've hated that. God knew, and he called me towards something different. He does that.

Teaching was everything I thought it would be. It was difficult yet meaningful. It was impossible, yet important. Each day was a new opportunity to show care, patience, and love to students that may not have had a ton of that ever before.

Last year, I remember telling my friend that the hardest part of teaching for me was realizing that my best wasn't enough. At the time, this meant that no matter how hard I worked, how much I cared, and what I did, there would still be things that I wasn't able to accomplish in my classroom. I could care well for students, yet there was still the possibility that some of my students would fail. There was the possibility that I couldn't help them in the ways they needed to be helped. That was hard for me to accept. It's still hard for me to accept.

This year it seemed like many of the difficult aspects of teaching were amplified. Perhaps someone else could have handled things better, but I struggled. A lot. At a certain point, I decided I couldn't do it again next year. Something would have to change. I had changed.

Deciding to leave my school to take a break is probably the hardest decision I have ever made. There's a huge part of me that doesn't want to admit that there were aspects of my job that I just wasn't able to handle. I don't like admitting that I wasn't able to find a great work-life balance, struggled forming relationships, and was often emotionally drained from interactions with students. It's not fun to say those things, but they're true.

One of my favorite things to tell students this year was that I've never met someone that has regretted doing their best. I stand by that statement. Though I had the most challenging year of my life, I'm glad that I'm able to say that I gave it everything I had. I'm not sure I can say that about most things in my life.

It's possible that taking a break from teaching will turn out to be a terrible choice: it might lead to a year(s) of uncertainty, loneliness, and feeling lost. The reality is that all of these things are possibilities, and yet, I can't envision a future where I'm not proud of myself for taking a chance to reset, rethink, and recharge. It might be the case that taking a break from teaching tells me that I really do want to be a teacher. It might be the case that I find something completely different that really motivates and inspires me. Regardless, I'm giving myself the opportunity to figure it out. I'm not sure what the next few months will look like for me and am even less certain about the next few years. For the time being, I'm not going to be able to maintain the illusion that I am in control of everything, and I think that'll be good for me.

In a world where people push forward, I'm looking forward to taking a step back. I do not have it all together, and I hope you don't either. That wouldn't be too much fun anyway.