Horizons

It was a fitting irony that the only student I met when I dropped off my room key and ID badge at the main office of the school was Denardo. He was the student who had the most difficulty staying in school, getting along with teachers and peers, and, as such, became my favorite. As usual, he arrived five minutes after the first bell had rung and was late for homeroom.

"You take care of yourself. You get through this," I said to him as I shoved my emotions to the background and walked toward the exit.

"Wait! Where you goin'?" he asked.

"I've left the school." I replied.

"You mean you quit? Why?"

"It didn't work out for me. But you make it work for you, okay?"

"Okay. I will."

He looked at me with disbelief written across his face. In truth, it mirrored what I felt in my heart. The fact that I had walked out of my classroom two days ago raging, "I quit," still hasn't registered in reality for me. All my life I'd wanted to teach, loved my work, and identified myself as Teacher.

Closing the car door, I took a deep breath and turned the ignition. I drove away knowing that I was leaving a huge part of my life behind and was facing the frightening task of redefining my life and who I am.