The first hard part

I have tremendous respect for my principal.  He's amazing.  I wish that my school existed in MN, because I'd retire there.  My principal actually pushes my newspaper students to attack him in the newspaper.  He wants them to use their democratic right of press and is okay with being put on the spot for his decisions.  What administrator has more faith in the learning process than this?  He knows that if they go too far, that's a learning opportunity and not time for prior-review or censorship.  He knows that by developing a real voice, they'll have a real chance.  

More than I want to admit, I feel challenged and uncomfortable at my school.  The obstacles are huge, but the professionalism and passion of the task-at-hand are bigger.  I like that I'm always growing in my profession, in incredible bounds, and that the risks I take are valued by my administration and not scorned.  It's what made telling my principal today that I'm not returning next year so hard.  He was shocked, I from his reaction: completely physical - red face, flurried breathing.  Yet supportive and understanding.  I've been dreading this day.  I know how hard it is to find good teachers so I wanted him to have time.

Some days I walk out of the building with this guilty feeling of relief, like I won't have to deal with this next year - forgetting that in the end, I'm always thankful for having to deal with this.  Today I walked out feeling a small sense of grief as I start to prepare myself to say goodbye to the school that served my entire purpose these past three years.

By the time I got to my car, I mostly realized that I took the first step in gathering the myrrh.  Soon it will be lit.