Left

It's easier to leave than to be left behind. ~R.E.M. - Leaving New York

Saturday morning, I attended a brunch with TFA-ers, both corps members and staff, and I realized, around our table of eight, that I was the only one who would not be here next year. It really hit me hard, almost to the point of a physical blow, to come to that realization. I was the only one.

Logically, I know that more people are leaving than staying, and I know that this has been my plan all along. That does nothing to mitigate the overwhelming guilt I feel for physically abandoning my kids and abandoning this movement in Memphis. It's true that no amount of guilt could make me stay at my school another year, and no amount of guilt at this point could make me delay law school again, but I can't stop feeling it. Do I want to stay? Yes. Do I want to stay badly enough? No.

It makes me wonder what I would be doing and considering now if I had never deferred law school. Would I have applied this year? Would I have bucked those plans and decided to stay in the classroom? Would I have taken another position here? The deferral, though absolutely not binding, save for the fact that I put a tuition deposit down years ago, has pretty much locked me in for Penn. It's limited certain opportunities (I've received several inquiries about my interest in various charter school across the country; I've seen many year-long fellowships advertised for TFA alums), but it's also provided me with certainty. I don't have to be interviewing; I don't have to waiting on a job offer. I knew, two years ago, that I had something waiting for me at the end if I wanted it still.

And I do, but a big part of me believes that this unease is status quo bias, that I am so comfortable where I am as a teacher, a soon-to-be alumna of TFA, and a Memphian, that I don't want to disrupt this life I have carved out for myself. I know I could be that much better in the classroom next year; I know that I am a good teacher, and some days, maybe even better than that. It's rare that I can say that I am good at something that is so damn challenging to me, and at the risk of sounding too in love with myself, I kind of like that about teaching.

I don't know if I'll be good at law school. I don't know if I'll be good at grad school. I don't know if I'll even be very good with the transition from being around teenagers all the time to going back to a professional, adult setting. So it's these unknowns that freak me out a little, and they're definitely part of why I feel like it's not I who is leaving people behind here, but rather those who are staying are leaving me behind in their journeys to be the awesome teachers and leaders that this city needs.

I hear people talk about next year, and I feel sad that I won't be around to host and attend parties and get-togethers, or to see more of my students succeed and get college acceptances. I won't be around to build this alumni network in the city, and I won't be around when my students are grappling with the intricacies of algebra 2. Do they even know how much they mean to me? Do I mean half as much to them?

I plan to come back for my students' graduations as many times as I can, but that can't change the fact that I am always leaving them behind.