One year ago, I said goodbye to my high school students for the last time. I stepped out the door of the four walls I’d called home for ten years, and I never went back.

Last year, I made the decision to leave my teaching job after ten years in the high school English classroom. It wasn’t an easy decision at all. Still, it was one that, at the time, I felt was the right decision for me. I could get into all the whys of leaving teaching, but if you’re here, you probably know the whys. My guess is that many of you reading this are in the same shoes I was in last year—thinking it’s time for you to leave but scared to make the leap. (You can read my article about leaving teaching here if you want the details).
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I left the classroom for a corporate job in communications. Now, one year later, I wanted to reflect on where I am, what I’ve learned, and the question I know so many of you are wondering: Do I regret leaving? Here are the things I’ve learned in the past year since leaving the classroom. I hope that if, as summer approaches, you’re wondering if you want to go back to the classroom in the fall, this article will help you make the difficult decision.

I’d like to say that leaving the classroom was super easy and that I never had my doubts. In truth, I landed at a job I love and am so fortunate to have. It’s a great company with stellar values, benefits, and perks. Still, change is never, ever easy.

Foremost, it wasn’t easy “starting over.” New friends, new processes, new paperwork, new everything. I hadn’t realized that at the school, I’d fallen into a comfortable place where I really did know my job inside and out. I was the person new people came to for questions and advice. Now, ten years later, I was the person asking a million questions, being confused, and not knowing all aspects of my job. It’s humbling and scary, to be honest.

Plus, even if you are relieved to leave the classroom and know it was the right choice, I think there is a subconscious grieving period you go through. There were days this past year when I was emotional, when I cried, when I just felt frustrated. I think that if I’m being honest, a lot of that came from a place of grieving the death of my dream. I’d wanted to teach since I was five. I spent about seven of my ten years in teaching absolutely loving it. To give up that vision, that dream, wasn’t easy. I think I still grieve it a little bit.
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Change is never easy, and leaving the classroom will come with a rollercoaster of emotions. Fear, stress, confusion, nostalgia. All sorts of feelings. Still, on my new desk, I have a sign that says, “Choose growth over comfort.” Because even though it’s sometimes a struggle starting over, I’ve also found that it’s enlivening. In the classroom, I had fallen into a complacent routine. Change was just what I needed to grow, to learn, and to remember what life is really about. I have a new appreciation and zest for life that I realize now I had lost in the stress of papers, toxic environments, and doing the same thing year after year.

Let me be clear: I wasn’t one of those teachers who missed school during the summer or taught during the summer or took on extra jobs during break. I was a teacher who LIVED for my summer. I didn’t crack open a book or set foot in my classroom until the last minute. I literally lived it up in the summer—and when I say lived it up, I of course meant read lots of books in my hammock, drank lemonade, and went to the craft store on a random Tuesday afternoon. Still,  I was terrified when I left education that I would desperately miss it, if I’m being honest.

But the truth is, one year in, I really don’t. I have only used a few of my PTO days in the past year, something I could never say during teaching. I was always using my personal days, living for the extended breaks, and basically crawling to summer. Now, I honestly can tell you that I don’t live for breaks because I have a much, much, much better work-life balance. Truly.

When you’re in the middle of teaching, this logic doesn’t really sink in. I know because I’ve been there. How could you possibly survive working all year long? How could you handle only having a few holidays off? It seems impossible. But that’s because in teaching—it is.

I don’t think I realized how burnt out, how tired, how stressed I was in education until I left. Sure, my new job is stressful on certain days. But I’m not soul-crushingly tired when I leave for the day. In fact, each evening, I actually have energy when I get home to do things (cue teacher gasps) instead of sinking into the sofa and napping. I find that I have more hobbies and go out more all year long, not just during the three summer months of freedom. I also find that because I can “shut my job off” when I leave for the day, I’m not spending every waking minute at home stressing over lesson plans or when I’m getting papers graded or when I’m going to guidance to chat about a kid. I can truly clock out and leave work at the office.
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This is one I don’t think you’ll believe me about until you experience it because it’s such a foreign concept to educators. But to have a job where you don’t desperately need a break is such a life-changing thing. What’s more, the Sunday scaries are no longer a thing. Sure, I might groan that my alarm is going to go off early the next morning. But there is no longer that debilitating depression about work. Ever. And that is also life changing.

Since leaving my teaching job, I’ve lost about ten pounds without really trying. My skin is clearer and doesn’t break out as much. More importantly, I don’t feel like I’m physically sick all the time. In fact, I haven’t been sick at all this past year. I have less headaches and more energy. And I truly believe it’s because I have less stress.
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I knew the school environment was stressful. The constant decision-making, incessant monitoring, watching for safety issues, trying to meet impossible testing standards, discipline, and the ten thousand tasks a teacher endures a day plays a toll. Still, it wasn’t until I left teaching and let my body heal that I realized how sick the stress was making me.

I have never felt better physically than I did this past year. And that’s an eye-opening experience. I realize now that for the past several years, I’ve really only been living half a life—the half of life for work. I wasn’t energetic enough to really be present in my non-working hours because of the toll the stress was taking. I feel like a weight’s been lifted now, and it shows. People say that I look happier, healthier, more vibrant—and that’s because I am.

Suddenly, I have more time, energy, and passion for my hobbies. In addition to my day job, I’m a published author. In my last year of teaching, I thought I might quit. I didn’t have any ideas for a book, and I didn’t think I ever would. In this past year, I’ve written three new novels and have so many ideas for more. My creativity has increased tenfold because I realize I now have the mental capacity to chase my passions.

In teaching, we’re taught that your work is your life. But I have a new perspective now. I’m not living to work. I’m working to live the life that fulfills me. That’s a huge mindset change and shift.

A big reason I left teaching was because of the constant lack of respect from students and parents. I didn’t want a red carpet to be rolled out for me or a banner on an airplane to fly over the school daily saying thanks. Plain and simple, I wanted basic human decency and common courtesy. More and more as the years went on, I felt like those went away.
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Being called every name in the book by students and parents, being told that because you don’t have kids you can’t be a good teacher, being accused of being underqualified despite three degrees and a publishing history a mile long—these wear on you, despite your best efforts.

Moving to the corporate world opened my eyes to how much abuse teachers really do accept as part of the job. I have never been sworn at in my new job. I have never been threatened. If I make a mistake, I’m able to fix it without seven meetings, shame, and degrading comments. I am able to be my genuine self without fear of being told I’m not good enough. In fact, most days, I’m praised for my efforts, my work, and my talents. I’m appreciated. It’s sad that appreciation was never really a part of my educational career.

As teachers, we’re told that “being disrespected is part of the job.” Or we’re told “kids will be kids” or that we signed up for it. But let me set the record straight.

You are worthy of being respected. You do not have to go into a place where you are verbally abused every single day. You are more than qualified for your job, and you shouldn’t have your credentials questioned every single day.

You deserve and are worthy of respect. Period.

I think in teaching, your co-workers really do become more than just people you work with. The bonds you form are so much stronger, perhaps because you’re “in the trenches” together. Leaving teaching, I knew I would really miss my work friends. I didn’t realize how much.

My new co-workers are amazing and kind, and I really think we’ll be close as time goes on. Still, leaving your best friends, your co-teachers, the people who were there for all the good and bad, it’s tough. I miss my best friend so much. I miss our morning coffee and catch ups. I miss the funny things that sometimes happened. I miss those connections.

We still stay in touch, of course, but leaving a job always puts a strain on the relationship just because of practicality. You will miss your friends dearly. It will be hard starting over and making new friends, especially if you’re an introvert like me.
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But I also know that your friends will want what’s best for you—and if you’re truly happy, your friendship will ultimately benefit.

I was sad this past year that I closed the door on teaching. I miss being in front of a class and talking about Emerson or doing that fun MLA activity I came up with. I miss talking about literature and teaching writing. I do. I miss the connection and my content. I miss the good times in front of the classroom or lighting a spark in a student for learning.

But leaving the traditional classroom doesn’t mean you can’t incorporate teaching into your life. I recently accepted an adjunct position at a college where I’ll get to teach one night a week, enough to still allow me to pursue my passion. There are all sorts of remote tutoring positions, local tutoring programs, or even online courses where you can still live out your passion.

As teachers, we’re sometimes made to believe we can do only one thing with our degrees. That’s so not true. First of all, when you’re looking to leave the classroom, know that you have so many skills that you don’t realize will translate to corporate world or whatever other field you’re interested in. Many of our skills encompass managerial skills, human resources, and project management skills. We just don’t think of them that way.

And secondly, leaving the traditional classroom setting doesn’t mean you can’t still teach. You can still find new ways to connect with that passion and live out your dream just in a new way that allows you to have work-life balance and be happy.

Leaving teaching is a difficult decision but also, in truth, the best thing I’ve done for myself. When I think back a year, I barely recognize that tired, stressed, always ill, drained woman I was. I see the photos of myself from that time, and I see a fake smile with exhaustion and sadness behind her eyes. This past year has had its challenges and hurdles, sure. Still, for me, I know I made the best choice for myself.

Ultimately, leaving teaching is a choice you have to make for yourself. But I leave you with three pieces of advice:

1. You are not selfish for wanting something different or wanting a better work environment. It’s more than okay to think of yourself, despite what educators are taught to believe.
2. There are options for you out there, and it’s okay to pursue those options.
3. You might regret leaving teaching. That’s okay. There isn’t one right choice for our lives. You can always change your mind and change it again. The risk isn’t as great as you think. Follow your heart. If you decide you made the wrong choice, you can always change the course of your life.

So, educator, as I said in my last article, I hope you find the courage to make a change if that’s what your heart is telling you. And to quote the classroom poster of Walt Whitman that was on my back wall, “Sail forth to seek and find.”
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Sail forth, teacher, and find your new destiny if its calling.

It’s been four and a half months since I put in my resignation and left my teaching job for a Communications position in the corporate world. Of course, it wasn’t easy saying goodbye to my teaching dream, a dream I’d had since a little girl and thought would be my forever. Still, I knew it was time to leave education for a variety of reasons which I wrote about in my article about quitting teaching.

Over the past few months, I’ve had so many teachers reach out to me about my experience. I think like many in the education field, they’re ready for a change but terrified to leave. It’s hard to leave any job you invested so much time and effort into. However, with teaching, there’s a whole other level of guilt and stigma. People assume you’re a bad person for not wanting to fight the good fight anymore. I’m here to tell you that’s simply not true.

Perhaps more worrisome for those thinking of exiting education is the propaganda we are told as teachers—that we have the best jobs because of the time we have off and our pensions. We worry that it would be a fool’s errand to try to find something better. We’re made to believe that the struggle in our job is normal, to the point that we sacrifice our mental health and physical well-being sometimes.

Four and a half months into my new job and I can tell you I don’t regret leaving for one minute. Are there moments when I’m like, “Holy shit! I left!”? Yes. All the time. Are there moments where imposter syndrome kicks in and I wonder if I can actually do something different with my career? You bet. Are there times I miss my friends from the school I taught at for ten years? All the time.
Leaving teaching hasn’t been a walk in the park in the sense it has taken a lot of courage. Change is never easy. However, I can also tell you that when former co-workers see me around town now, they inevitably say the same thing: “You look so happy.”

And I am. I am happy in ways I didn’t realize were possible. I am calm and collected in ways I haven’t ever known in my adult working career. I am a different person in ways that make me so thankful I found the guts to leave.

I’m here to tell you the truth about leaving teaching, the truth that perhaps don’t want you to hear. I’m here to warn you about what it might feel like if you do make that choice, good and bad. Mostly, I hope I’m here to inspire change—if you feel the need to leave, I hope you can find the strength to do it here.

It won’t be easy—but from where I’m standing, I wish more teachers knew how worth it the change would be.

Here are the seven major things I’ve learned since leaving teaching.

1. You shouldn’t feel physically ill at work.

In my final years of teaching, a sinking feeling in my stomach became the norm. I would walk into the building, and my gut would instantly sink. I felt nauseous and had headaches all the time. I was exhausted to the point that after work, all I wanted to do was sleep. Hobbies fell by the wayside except during summer because I just didn’t have the energy for any of it.
Now, in my new job, I walk into the building and feel energized. Truly. Physically, my health is so much better, probably partially from the fact I’m not walking around stressed every second of the day. Most of all, I actually feel like I enjoy my evenings again because I’m not sleeping every spare moment I have. I come home and have energy to exercise, to run errands, and even to pursue different hobbies I’d abandoned.

It's easy when you’re in the middle of it all to think that how you feel—sapped of energy, half sick all the time, and just run-down—is normal. I’m here to tell you that it’s not. Sure, there are days I’m tired or days I wish I could just stay home all day. But I don’t feel that same kind of illness I felt from being burnt out in the education field.

2. Your weekends should be just that …weekends.
During my ten years of teaching, I thought I enjoyed my weekends. I’ve now realized I didn’t. I understand now how free I feel when I clock out on Fridays. I don’t think about my job again until Monday morning. I don’t stress about the upcoming week or replay all the scenarios that happened in my head all weekend. I simply step away from work and enjoy my time off.

More than that, I enjoy my Sundays now, too. I no longer wake up on Sunday morning fretting about the return to work. I truly enjoy every moment I’m away from work because there is a distinct, clear boundary between my personal life and my work life like there never was during teaching. In fact, in education, it’s often seen as selfish and shameful when you put up that boundary. Ignoring student and parent emails all weekend? But what if they need help with something? Not preparing your lessons for the next week? That’s unacceptable. And what about that stack of papers you didn’t have time to grade? The students need that feedback.

Having weekends off again, really having them off, has reminded me that work life balance can exist, truly. And it’s been a freeing feeling to enjoy them once more.

Lifeless.
That was the word that had started to come to mind when I thought about my days. Not the kind of lifeless that stems from a day or two of being tired or from a tragic time. It was the kind of lifeless that broiled up daily from a deep-rooted, all-encompassing emptiness. I had stopped feeling passion about anything anymore. I had stopped feeling joy. More importantly, I had stopped feeling like myself.
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 It was my husband who helped me come to my full awakening that the deep despondency I was feeling about my job wasn’t normal. He noticed how it had become an unspoken rarity for me to tell him I had a good day at work. More often than not, I would come home crying from the stress, anxiety, and frustrations from my job. And sure, I had summer vacation—but I found myself living only for those months. Nine months of the year, I had become an overwhelmed, angry shell of who I really was. So, after many job applications, rejections, self-doubts, and months, I did the unthinkable. I left teaching.

I am an ex-teacher. It’s a title I never in a million years thought I would possess. Ever since I was a little girl teaching stuffed animals on the stairs with my tiny chalkboard, teaching was my dream. Mostly, I wanted to teach because I’ve always believed in the power of education. I love the doors and possibilities that open up with education, and I wanted to incite that spark in others. For about seven years, I did just that—and that light inspired me, too. I felt passion for my work and built connections with my students that still stand today. I created engaging activities, graded papers, taught about Shakespeare, and did all the teaching things. I felt alive.
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But, for those of you in education, you know there was a shift even before the COVID word began to leak into our daily existence. About seven years into my career, it became apparent that education had changed. The students had changed. And with those transformations, something broke in the education system—and in me. 

I could go on and on about what I think is wrong in the system that is, in many ways, collapsing around so many. I could talk about the lack of respect and the move from encouraging intrinsic motivation in students to extrinsic and sometimes non-existent motivation. I could talk about how our grading systems are diluting all the true purposes of learning. I could go on and on about how we are failing our teachers, but we are also failing our students by not preparing them for the fact that life is hard. I could talk about how the school system has become a giant excuse factory that allows unacceptable, unsafe behaviors to be harbored in our classrooms and how teachers are held responsible for every hostile facet of an environment that surfaces from such naïve philosophies.

I could talk about the scary moments I’ve had and the even scarier fact that so many moments had no consequences for the students. I, like so many educators, could also give you too many stories of times I felt completely de-humanized, disrespected, and even unsafe in the classroom to the point I felt constantly sick to my stomach. I could tell you about how I felt stuck, trapped in a profession with little upward mobility or recognition for hard work. I could tell you things that would make you afraid for the future of the education system.

But if you’re a teacher thinking of leaving, you know all this already, and I’m not here to write a dissertation for a public that already is ready to crucify educators for every misstep, misspoken word, or claim about the faultiness of student behavior. I’m here to tell you about the other side of things—the side so many of us dream of but are afraid to go and explore.

In truth, I made the decision to leave teaching years ago when my heart started to die a little bit each time I walked into that classroom and saw a total sense of apathy growing in the students. It was the final school year when my decision was made. I was trying to inspire students to chase dreams and live their best lives, but at my core, I wasn’t living mine. I didn’t recognize the person I had become—anxiety-filled, tearful, depressed, and often ill. I finally decided to listen to my inner voice and my favorite mantra:

“You are not a tree.” I made the change.
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On the other side of the teaching wall, I want to tell you this—I’m happy. Truly, unrecognizably happy. I no longer dread going to work. In fact, I enjoy what I’m doing. I’ve found a job related to my ultimate passion, writing, and it feels like a dream to get to do this work every single day. I no longer find myself napping for hours after work from exhaustion and sadness. I no longer feel sick to my stomach when I walk in the front doors, and I no longer feel disrespected or blamed for things out of my control. I now have opportunities for growth and learning that excite me.

I want to share with you some things I’ve learned from my shift from teaching. I’m sharing these things because I know there are a lot more out there like me—feeling broken-down, despondent, and tired but too afraid to say something. I know there is a hero-complex in teaching where it makes you feel like a bad person to even suggest you want to leave or that things aren’t perfect. I also know there is a deep curiosity about what it really is like on the other side of the education system.

I also want to make it clear that I came from a school with great administrators. The issues I experienced weren’t because of them. They were supportive and kind. It’s just that they, too, are encompassed by a broken system. They can’t be expected to singlehandedly change an entire educational structure, either.
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I hope that these insights I’ve had help someone else who is trying to make the difficult decision to leave. I’m not saying leaving is right for everyone. Certainly, we need dedicated educators to stay, to fight the fight, and to make changes. However, I also don’t think that’s the path for all of us. I don’t think it’s selfish to want something different for yourself. So, here are the things I’ve learned these past few months since leaving my classroom for the last time.

​In education more than any other job, there is a feeling of guilt for leaving the profession. I think it’s because during our careers, we’re constantly reminded that we’re there for the kids. Every new task, every insurmountable hurdle, every exhausting week, we’re reminded that we’ll do anything “for the betterment of the kids.” We’re told often that you can’t pour from an empty cup—but that’s exactly what we’re encouraged to do. If you’re not sacrificing your health, sleep, and social life for the kids, you’re not doing enough. This “never enough” mentality rules us, plagues us, and preys on us. Because here’s the thing—we go into teaching because we do care and we do want to make a difference. And that’s what makes leaving feel that much harder.
 
We’re made to feel sometimes like we’ve abandoned the great cause. We’re made to feel like we’re lazy or uncaring for wanting a job where we’re respected and recognized for our efforts. We’re made to feel like we’re terrible teachers for leaving.
 
I struggled with that for a while when I first left. If I was really such a good teacher, why didn’t I stay and fight the good fight? Shouldn’t I raise my voice and try to make changes? But here’s the thing I’ve come to understand now—the good fight is rigged. That’s not to say it’s hopeless, but I’m here to tell you that if your mental health and well-being is suffering, fighting the good fight isn’t fighting any good fight at all.
 
The kids are important, certainly. But I’m going to say something controversial in education—you’re important, too. You matter, too. Your well-being, your motivation, your passions, and your dreams all matter. It isn’t selfish to want a new dream.

​When I became a teacher, I knew the kids would be disrespectful. We had entire chapters in our college textbooks devoted to how to deal with students with behavior issues. Still, in the past few years, things have taken a dark turn.
 
I think we come to a point as teachers where we are inundated with such a toxic, verbally abusive environment that we begin to believe that’s how it is everywhere. We begin to think we aren’t worthy of respect or that somehow, it’s just part of the job. We’re sworn at, accused falsely, told we’re worthless, challenged, and disrespected all in the name of “that’s kids for you.” We’re told that we have no power, told that we have no say in our own classrooms, and told that we’re not even worthy of human decency. This is no longer a rare occurrence, either. This is something that happens multiple times a day in classrooms, to the point that it has become the norm.
 
The scary part looking back? We start to believe it. We believe it’s normal to be called a bitch or told because we’re women, we aren’t respected. We believe it’s normal to be afraid of being cussed out, having violence in our classrooms, or being told we don’t know what we’re doing despite numerous degrees and years of experience. We take it with a smile because that’s what we should do.
 
Certainly, when working with teenagers or younger, you know there’s going to be disrespect. But when day in and day out, you’re verbally abused, told you don’t matter, and talked to in ways that would never be acceptable anywhere else, all without consequences at times, it takes a mental toll.
 
Now that I’m in a professional corporate environment, I want to say this—it’s not normal. Not even close. And now that I’m somewhere with professional standards, I’ve come to walk with my head a little higher. I’ve come to be appreciated for my talents, my skills, and my experience. I’ve come to understand that teenagers or not, it’s never okay to be talked to the way I was on a daily basis.

​This is another eye-opening find I’ve had since leaving the classroom. I no longer dread Mondays. I no longer feel that sickness in the pit of my stomach when I walk through the door. I no longer count the hours until my next day off.
 
I’m just steadily happy. Every day, I feel like there’s something to look forward to. And most of all, even when I have a hard day at work, I’m not wiped out completely to the point I need to sleep the night away. I leave work, go home, and have the energy and passion to pursue what I love. I’m working on my hobbies again. I’m exercising more. I’m sleeping better. The quality of my life when I’m not at work has exponentially improved. I’m just plain happy—both at home and at work.

It’s still crazy to me sometimes to think I left teaching, the only thing I ever dreamed of doing. But the thing I’ve learned these past few months is that dreams change sometimes, and that’s okay. I know this article might sound like teaching is hopeless or that I think everyone should leave education. Let me be clear—I don’t. If you still love teaching, if you think it’s still worth the negatives, then by all means, keep teaching. We need passionate educators to continue moving the education system forward. We need educators to light a fire for learning in our students. I still am thankful we live in a country that believes in free education for all.

However, if you’re connecting with some of the negatives I mentioned, then I hope this article gives you pause. There are all sorts of reasons we tell ourselves we need to stay in education or in any job, really, that we’re no longer happy in. We think about the wise choice, the less risky choice, the comfortable choice. Was leaving teaching easy? Not at all. I sacrificed some things like my summers, my pension, and the stable comfort of knowing exactly what I was doing. Change is always slightly uncomfortable and terrifying, and this was no exception. It was hard starting over and learning a new job. It was hard leaving my friends. It was hard leaving behind the students I had connected with.

Still, do you know what’s harder? Going to a job every day where you feel dead inside. Going to a job where you don’t remember your worth anymore or where you feel sick to your stomach every day. Going to a job you no longer fully believe is right for you.
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Leaving teaching will never be easy. There will be internal and external struggles. But, standing here on the other side of my choice, I can tell you I made the best one for me. I’m now in a job I love, a job that lights me up again. I’m in a job where I walk through the door and feel respected, heard, and appreciated. I’m in a job where I feel like I am empowered to make a difference without swimming upstream all the time. I’m in a job where I feel energized and not exhausted. 

There will be some who will read this and be angry. There will some who will read this and think I’m a bad teacher for leaving. There will be some who will be rooting for me to fail. But that’s okay.
 
I’ve learned from leaving teaching that especially when you’re an educator, everyone will have an opinion about your choices. The only important one, though, is your own. So, to the educators who are thinking of leaving teaching—I hope you learn to dismiss everyone else’s opinion and listen to yourself. And, if that inner voice tells you it’s time to go—I hope you go with your head held high and excitement for what’s to come. Because the greatest lesson I’ve learned since leaving the classroom? It’s a great big, wide world out there beyond the classroom, and when it feels like it’s time to go, it’s okay to head out into the great unknown and explore. As the Walt Whitman poster that was hanging in my classroom said, “Now voyager sail thou forth to seek and find.”
 
Sail thou forth, dear teacher. There’s a wide horizon waiting for you.

Lindsay (L.A.) Detwiler is a USA Today Bestselling thriller author, former English teacher, and a Communications Specialist from Pennsylvania. Her novel The Widow Next Door, published with HarperCollins UK, hit the USA Today Bestseller's list. She has numerous other bestselling published novels, including The Diary of a Serial Killer's Daughter and Remember When.

*If you are looking for help and courage to make the change, I highly recommend checking out the Teacher Career Coach (This isn't an ad at all...I just followed her on IG and loved her content). She really helped me find the courage to chase my new dream. Check her out on Instagram @teachercareercoach