LIFE: The Part of My Story You Never Heard

On a Wednesday morning in October 2015, just barely 2 months into the school year, I impatiently waited for first period to end and my students to leave before I walked down to the front office, choking back tears and a giant knot in my throat, to inform the school secretary that I was sick.

I was not sick— at least not in the way she thought or the way you're probably imagining—but I also wasn't well.

It really wasn't a total lie. I definitely didn't feel good, and I truly did have a stomach ache. It was also entirely possible that I was going to throw up, but then again, anything is possible, right? However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't know that the potential for vomit in the middle of a science lesson and room full of 10 year olds wasn't perfect justification for an immediate substitute for the remainder of the day. 

In any case, honestly or not, I was going home. At 9 a.m., with 4 classes left to teach, hundreds of copies left to make and mounds of papers left to be graded: I bailed.

I remember everything about this day so distinctly. Having secured a sub, I walked back up to my classroom to gather my things, knowing full well that although I was leaving school grounds for the remainder of the day, school wasn’t leaving me, and I’d need to bring home my usual load of books to prepare for tomorrow’s inevitable lessons. I meandered the hallways and stairs and dodged eye contact with all my poor, innocent students who lovingly (and naively) said, “Feel better Ms. Jordan!” and finally escaped through the back doors into the privacy of my car. 

And I cried.

When my mom attempted to rescue me in what I now see as not a breakdown but a vital catalyst to becoming myself, she asked, “What’s the worst part?”

I thought it through: the late nights and early mornings, the never-ending lesson plans, the 20+ kids talking while I’m talking, the after-school meetings when I have so much to do for the next day, the inadequacy I feel, the fact that my social life has been swallowed up by my work… but the best answer of all, which I told my mom on that Wednesday morning while my students were in second period and I was in bed was this: “That I have to go back tomorrow.”

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So that's the part of my story you probably never heard. You probably heard I used to be a teacher. You probably heard I quit and started pursuing and building my own business, and you probably heard I'm super passionate about living in a way that fully honors who you are.

But you probably never heard about the Wednesday morning I jumped ship. You probably never heard about the days I loved where I was so much that it made wanting to quit 1,000x more confusing than it already was. You probably never heard about a lot of the in-between parts of my story. 

I don't know what you've heard and what you haven't, so I'm going to try to tell you it all. I hope you'll come with me on the journey of these next few blog posts where I want to unfold my story post by post as real and true as I can, not just for entertainment or information purposes, but for connection purposes. I know there will be parts of my story that you or someone close to you connects with. 

Come be an active part of me sharing my story.
Respond to a post.
Forward it to a friend.
Let it encourage you to think about (or write!) your own story. 

This is part 1 of however how many posts it takes to tell my story. Feel free to let me know what you want to hear more (or less) about. 

Happy reading!