How Did We Get Here...

My 1st social media post about maybe leaving

In February 2021 I knew it was time. News that the City of San Francisco was suing the school district, because we had not yet reopened during the COVID-19 Pandemic despite promises to do so in January, was what did it. 

It seemed unfathomable, like we were getting punked, that in the middle of a fucking global pandemic, this is what it had come to. But that’s San Francisco. Our hyper political 7 mile by 7 mile city - which I cannot leave or turn my back on - is a place where amazing things have originated, but where ultimately only San Franciscan’s actually give a shit about what’s happening. It’s a fact. Native San Franciscans are all born with chips on our shoulders, gigantic nacho flavored chips; and if you live here long enough you might develop your own.  My home is a place where we “welcome everyone” so long as they don’t fuck our shit up too much and where it’s impossible to not have lots of different political interests that align, intersect and are in conflict with each other at any given time. But this? This felt like some infighting nonsense at the cost of our young folks and like a sign that it was indeed time for me to walk away. 

But that was February. I’d already navigated the previously wild 11 months of pandemic life in the world of education which included: figuring out distance learning, department and team reorganization and not even knowing if my job was going to exist in the 2020-21 school year because of pandemic related budget cuts. And to think, I started 2020 thinking it was going to be my year, professionally and personally I was ready to do the damned thing.  Instead I just did my best with the bullshit hand of cards I was dealt. I’d been thrown lots of random projects because they knew “I could get it done, and done well.” They ranged from COVID-19 Protocol trainings in the Fall of 2020, to doing professional development for our school security guards, website updates and the actual policy work of my job. I worked with focus, but also blurry eyes and like so many during this pandemic, not having a sense of knowing when this would all end. January and February brought with them other focused work I actually cared about, but when I was able to get enough space or time to see the bigger picture of it all -  this was not IT for me. 

With March approaching, and marking the one year anniversary of my mother’s passing, as well as the one year anniversary of sheltering in place I couldn’t see a future where I could continue to grieve, find joy and do my job - which, absent of ego, I was doing damned well. I had given away my first year of grief entirely to making sure the ship kept sailing. Yes, in some ways, it couldn’t have happened at a better time (is there ever a good time for your mom to die though?) -  in that the pandemic gifted me the ability to have space and time to be with my dad, sister and maternal grandmother, but there was no fair exchange rate for the amount of work I was doing and the amount of space or time I would need to grieve, which we know isn’t quantifiable. 

That first year was almost gone and it managed to be one of the best professional years I had had in my life as far as what I was able to produce and the impact I was able to make (though even wilder shit would come after February). In that year I did my best to let the grief flow. I cried when I needed to. I danced alone in my apartment in the dark after downing a few shots or eating some weed gummies when I needed to (don’t worry, I wasn’t reckless with it). I openly admitted to people when I was only half participating in things when I needed to. But because I had lost control of so many things, as we all did during that year, I just let go and leaned in to the change, perhaps too much at times but I just said fuck it and went with the centrifugal force of all the change. 

I know you’re thinking that means that I allowed myself to get walked all over when it came to work, but that’s not entirely true either.  I took chances, took risks, I didn’t have anything to lose - a stance that became my primary way to get through things - and at times to hold others accountable to our young folks. I also set boundaries. I said no more professionally than I ever had before; though I definitely could have said it more. But I also didn’t take a lot of time off. 2 weeks after my mother first passed. A week and a half in the summer and a few days here and there. A week and a half over winter break. I was juggling too many projects - and our leadership team knew it. I was on too many working groups, more than other colleagues - and though it was a  testament of my skill and my value, I had historically grappled with how my skills and interests didn’t always match what folks in the organization valued about me. 

So the city suing it’s own school district… this was the universe saying “Girl, here is your out, your permission to go.” There couldn’t have been a clearer sign. And my god, my god am I happy I listened when I did. 

The months that followed my personal decision included formally telling my boss in mid-March, our board of education suing each other, and eventually opening schools in early April. I got assigned to support a school for two weeks while they made that transition, serving as an overpaid lunch lady for that time. I was removed from some projects, added to others and many other things happened not worth mentioning right now. I didn’t formally file until May and agreed on a 6/30 end date after some back and forth about losing 900 hours of sick time (yes, you read that correctly) in exchange for my mental sanity.  

I worked until the very last possible moment, officially signing out of my district accounts at 5:02pm. One of my teammates threw together a last minute happy hour for that evening and 9 of us played some fun games, shared some laughs, and I was pretty touched considering the all the days leading up to this where I felt conflicted between wanting to fade into the back and disappear without much fuss, and feeling like the 10 years I served that place meant I deserved a fucking parade in my honor (ego is weird huh?). 

Leaving was like a slow, slow break up - overwrought with complicated feelings and a commitment to finish things I started that was primarily self-imposed but no one would fight me about either.

So here I am. A month and a half after my last day, sharing here a bit more publicly how I got here. Not taking a ton of vacation (by force and by choice) in the 10 years within the organization  I was there afforded me the padding (financially) to take some time - so fucked right? I’ve got work here and there, and am thinking a lot about why I’ve always felt I had to hold so much. I know I don’t want to work the way I did before and if you know me well, one of the biggest ways I’ve grown is that I know I don’t have to. I’ve always been someone who hasn’t been super afraid of showing my emotions, of working through shit in my life as it's happening, but that’s often kept me from having the space to dream. When so many things in our world are still works in progress I can’t pass up the opportunity to do some intentional work on me and frankly, to live life again.
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Anyway - more to come. About this journey. About grief in the time of COVID-19. About education, and race, and whatever the fuck I want.

​Till then ✌🏽, thanks for being here.

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