The Year I Almost Quit
I’ll never forget the year I teetered on the edge of giving up, with a caseload of twenty-five students as a special education teacher. Five paraprofessionals stretched thin across two chaotic classrooms. Two mental health case managers were in and out of my door. A probation officer was checking in regularly for one of my students who was involved in the justice system. I was drowning in IEPs, progress reports, parent calls, collaboration meetings, para supervision, student behaviors, and never even had a moment to eat. Self-Care was a completely foreign concept, before, during and after school. I had twenty-five students with disabilities during the school day and three kids of my own, one of whom also had a disability. I was trying very hard to make sure they all knew they mattered.
By February, my mental health was fraying. Some nights, I slipped into bed and cried, not from sadness, but from sheer exhaustion. Quitting felt inevitable. But I couldn’t. My own children depended on my health insurance, and my ex-husband’s self-employment meant I was the sole safety net.
Then a colleague pulled me aside and said, “Find one student, one kid you can pour everything into.” We’ll call him Sam.
Sam walked into my room every day with that bright teenager’s grin, fully aware of the swirling chaos around him. He’d pop me an unexpected Diet Pepsi during yet another skipped lunch break and quietly buckle down to work. Despite the whirlwind, he made significant progress, growing five grade levels in reading in a single year. That spring, he celebrated high school graduation. Years later, he sent me a handwritten note from college, thanking me for believing in him.
He never knew how close I’d come to walking away. I never told him that his win, his grit, and his growth were exactly what kept me in the classroom. I needed his triumph as much as he needed my support.
Sam wasn’t the only success story that year. My paraprofessionals rallied, going above and beyond to meet every student’s needs. In our small rural school, resources were scarce—but our collective commitment was abundant. Together, we turned scarcity into creativity and chaos into unexpected joy.
That year forged me into a stronger teacher and a more empathetic leader. Even now, I carry its lessons with me: the power of showing up, the ripple effect of one student’s success, and the truth that sometimes our moments of greatest struggle precede our most significant breakthroughs.
What’s your win?
What story reminds you why you keep doing the hard work, year after year? Share it—and let’s celebrate the victories that light our way through the toughest seasons.
