Dear Hartzler Students of 1605,
As the school doors opened for another year, you sadly discovered I did not return to room 1605. When summer began, we both believed I would be there upon our return. I know how excited you were to come back and see all the familiar touches that made our room special—the selfie wall, the “You Matter to Me” messages on the board, the standing table that served as both a workspace and “snack table,” and of course, the beloved green jar of mints that rarely went empty. Unfortunately, that is not how you returned, and I sincerely apologize for taking all that away from you without even saying goodbye.
This blog post is to connect with you so that I can try to explain.
Within one calendar year, I faced significant changes in my health and endured a lot of grief. I received phone calls in the middle of class about the death of my father, followed by the passing of my father-in-law, two great aunts, and a dear uncle who was like a father to me. Carrying all that grief is heavy, and it continues to get heavier when you have to put on a positive mask and a smile every day.
As you know, teachers, just like everyone else, experience grief and personal challenges every year. Some teachers can sweep it under the rug, while others cannot. It’s not a sign of weakness nor a sign of strength, but simply a choice. However, the expectation to remain cheerful and energized in the classroom can be incredibly taxing. When anyone suppresses genuine feelings to appear strong, it leads to emotional exhaustion. Plus, when you add in the demands of work both in school and outside of school, in addition to having your own family, the weight becomes too much to carry.
This facade often leads to burnout and mental health struggles. While I received support from my family, fellow teachers, and administrators, I had to step back and honestly examine what the weight of it all was doing to me, both physically and emotionally.
This past summer, during a sunrise stroll along the beach with my journal, I made a list of my priorities, and it looked something like this:
- Restore my physical health – as I cheerfully celebrated my 50th birthday with so many of you, my health requires immediate and constant attention.
- Realign my spiritual health with God,
- Regain genuine happiness,
- Be present with my family.
Then, three weeks before school started, more challenges came my way, along with a few exciting opportunities that offered me a chance to prioritize those priorities while reigniting a career I love—writing.
With these new opportunities, I had to make the most difficult decision: not return to the classroom. Unfortunately, we all have to make such difficult decisions at some point in our lives, and it’s more complicated when it significantly impacts those around us and those we care about; however, making difficult decisions is a part of life.
As you continue this year without seeing me in the hallway or 1605, please know that I am doing well, and never forget that you hold a special place in my heart because You Will Always Matter to Me.
PS: If you see me having lunch with the English teachers, cheering on your rival school (my son’s school) at games, or attending theater events, please come and say “hi.” I truly miss you.
PPS: The mint jar is with a 10th-grade teacher, and he might share one with you if you ask politely. Just tell him I sent you ❤
Denise Hartzler 