Midlife Career Change
It’s been over a year since my last post. If we’re being honest, I kind of gave up on this dream of building a name for myself as a blogger. I felt like my idea to build Midlife It into a brand felt foolish and stale. Maybe it is; the mindfuck of midlife is no joke, friends. But this year I decided I’d give it another go. This time though, to avoid burnout, I decided I’ll just share what and when I feel like instead of creating an arbitrary timeline with a list of topics to cover.
This past 2022 year, I spent a lot of time growing and learning. The fog lifted. Midlife career change is a real thing - hell, I wrote a blog about it (Tips and Ideas For Midlife Career) , but I didn’t really think I’d make the transition I did five months ago. Over the summer of 2022 I applied for a substitute teaching job at my children’s k-12 school. Partly because we needed the money, partly I was tired of massage, and partly I just couldn’t find a gig that had hours flexible enough to work around my kids’ school schedules. It started as just a joke - Tera? A teacher?! Hold my beer.
Then the job started. And a long term assignment to sub a high school English class fell into my lap.
I never dreamed of being a teacher. But when a student claimed “no on wants us,” i couldn’t dream of being anything else.
Being a teacher wasn’t on my bucket list or any list of interest really. But there was a teacher shortage 2022. And though the year is young, there’s talk of another growing teacher shortage 2023 too. Yet, during that first week in the classroom as a long-term sub with no curriculum to follow and a bunch of 11th grade adolescents, I grew more and more comfortable with the idea of being there full time. “No one wants us,” one of the students confessed, after a frank conversation about the high turnover of teachers at the school.
I was stunned. How could anyone not like these kids? They’re smart. They’re funny. And though they can sometimes be a bit ornery, they’re genuinely curious enough about learning. I couldn’t imagine a task force - military size unit designation - try to guide them. And I wasn’t about to let them get sucked into another temporary teacher that might stay for a year before bailing on them again. So, I dusted off my resume, signed up for the fastest track to earn an alternative teaching licensing, and applied for the position.
Within two weeks, after an interview and confirmation from the state of Colorado that the program I signed up for was credible, I was offered the job.
The first semester was hell to say the least. When I wasn’t being bombarded with emails and my own homework, I was overwhelmed with the school and state policies, call outs to subbing other classes during my planning periods, and scrambling to piece lesson plans together (thank Goddess for TeachersPayTeachers).
A couple of students had an ax to grind with me though. Every other week I was being called to the office for a new infraction. I swore a couple of times. I jokingly muttered a sassy student should consider duct tape. Oh, and I wasn’t particularly fond of the growing antisemitic and racial slurs being casually thrown around in the hallways and in other classrooms, so I made it known I’m a no tolerance room for that type of behavior.
From September through November, I spent equal amounts of time crying and considering quitting the track I’d just started. Did I make the right call? Was teaching really something I could see myself doing beyond the 3-year commitment I’d made with the state?
Every other week I was called to the principal’s office for yet another infraction.
Still, I’m no quitter. So, I did the unexpected: I asked students to grade me. I passed out a carefully worded “report card” to track how I’m doing. I stood outside the room while they filled out the forms anonymously. I did the think I hate most: I waited.
“Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new.”
When I scoured their feedback, what I learned first is that teens are more than happy to give you their opinions - so long as its anonymous. Surprisingly, I got a pretty average score (above what I suspected based on attitudes given during our class time). I got a B. But the notes that many left besides the multiple choice grade were beyond encouraging.
She tries her best to make the class better for us.
She shows interest in my learning.
Ms. Tera is a good listener.
She tries to change her way of thinking to match a classmates.
I love the life skills she teaches us.
I forced myself to keep at it. I was bound to figure out how I could make English not just fun, but memorable, engaging, and a class students actually missed in between block days. Not to mention the growing fear nagging at my conscience; I didn’t want to be the failure I’d feared I’d become if this teaching gig didn’t turn out.
By mid-November, I had a plan. The spring semester was going to be different - I was going to change my attitude and make the units, assessments, and activities interesting enough, I would be envious.
Before break, we had a holiday party. Apparently, most high school teachers don’t do them anymore - too babyish. But I hedged my bets and gave it a go anyway. If I remember anything about high school, it’s that any teacher willing to supply free food or snacks is worth remembering.
We had a Pop Up Toast too. I kicked it off by toasting the whole class, thanking them for giving me the grace and space to take a stab at this teaching thing. Then I selected a few particularly honorable mentions and passed the mic for each to continue the toast until everyone in the room got at least one note of praise.
Something happened in my classroom those last couple of days before break. The students invited me into their little circles of “cool” and shared some of their most kept vulnerabilities: where they really wanted to go to college if only their parents listened, and how terrified of adulthood some actually were.
I remembered what it was like being a teen…
I felt honored and shocked at the same time. I remembered what it was like being a teen. And more than anything I wanted them to know they weren’t alone.
Over break I worked on my upcoming units. I put together the most kick-ass plan for American Dystopia: The Most Dangerous Game lesson plans - Mock Trial style. When I shared my idea with the classes, the students freaked - in a good way.
Seriously? Like a real mock court room and everything?
Many said they’d done it before, but the setting and teachers didn’t do a good job in organizing or executing the activity. I even bought a robe and gavel to prove I wasn’t playing.
“Life is not a problem to be solved, but an experience to be lived.”
What I’ve found most freeing about this midlife career change, is that finding a new passion and purpose can actually silence some of my anxiety. As busy as I am most days, it’s also helped enhance my child-parent relationships, and minimized my mood swings. Teaching a bunch of teens has eased some common perimenopausal symptoms giving me a new breath of confidence and focus. And for that I’m most grateful.
Students have a take-it-or-leave-it 40+ woman that knows exactly what they’re doing.
I’m not like many of my colleagues at school. I didn’t come from a rich history or love of teaching. But what midlife and my awakening has brought me is perspective, grace, and a fresh look at what I can bring to the educational field.
My students don’t have a young naive woman fresh out of college with limited exposure or experience. Students aren’t dangerously close to my age - I fantasize they see me as a cool aunt they like to visit. My boundaries are clear; they have a take-it-or-leave-it 40+ woman that knows exactly when they’re trying to pull a fast one or truly are struggling with their work. And I think that’s the security they’ve been craving. They know they’ve got someone that’s had more life experiences and careers than most other teachers, and I make it known I’m someone that’s not afraid to advocate for them - even if it costs me my job.
Midlife and adolescents are polar opposites in their phases of life. But what makes them such a good match is we give as much as we need from one another. One of us has a good amount of knowledge and experience while the other has all the energy and passion to carry on the torch. It’s bittersweet. I know my time with them will be limited, but I know what lessons I give them in my classroom, they’ll remember - almost as much as I’ll remember the lessons they’ve taught me. Every day I bring my strengths to the classroom, and they remind me just how young at heart I truly am.
midlife can be a decades long process. Maybe now I’ll kick back and enjoy the ride for a while…
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