The Road to July 2

Catch-Up: 

Oyster Sauce helping write yet another cover letter

Y'all I can’t believe it’s already July. Yesterday, July 1, was my first official day untethered -no more logins, no more SparkNC email, no more classroom keys. That surreal moment where you go from “This is my identity” to “Wait… who even am I now?” It wasn’t even a clean break - halfway through the day yesterday, July 1 I lost access. Before that, I was frantically downloading every bit of digital work I’d ever poured my heart into. Hopefully I grabbed everything. Hopefully.

But the truth is, the unraveling started long before July 1.

Somewhere back in the chaos, I realized I had to prepare for a life beyond Chatham. I’ve applied to over 100 jobs -100 different visions of my future. And somehow, with every application, I’ve been writing my story again and again. Rewriting it. Reclaiming it. Sam and Claude have helped me dig through old resumes like archaeologists dusting off the bones of my career, reassembling a mosaic of everything I’ve built.

There was this turning point - 5 weeks ago? I sent my resume to folks for reference forms, feeling pretty proud. But then Laura - bless her brilliant soul, wrote back. Her message was generous, constructive, and way too honest for me to face at the time. I couldn’t even respond. Not because it wasn’t helpful - but because it was too helpful. She was right. The internet advice "keep your resume 1 page only!" written by bots and 20 year olds - was wrong for ME. My resume was missing whole chapters. If someone only looked at what I’d listed, it would seem like I’d spent 30 years in a single district with nothing to show for it. And I haven’t. I’ve done so much more.

So I fixed it. Line by line. And that improved resume? It’s the one that’s now inching its way through the maybe-my-future-district system, background checks pending, with a job that (fingers crossed) might finally say yes.

And then there was NCCAT. I didn’t realize how much I needed to be away - away from Chatham, from the school buildings, from the ghosts of hallways I’d poured myself into. Even though I got that awful email while I was there - “Thank you for your resignation” (which, to be clear, I did not submit) - even though that gut-punch landed mid-trip, it was also when Marc said, “Damn it, let’s see if someone will take your case.” That changed everything.

So here I am, catching my breath. Day One has come and gone. I’ve submitted hundreds of forms, rewritten my resume a dozen times (actually more - and finally in InDesign so it looks like ME, and somehow survived it all.

Let this be the record: I didn’t resign from education. I’m just rewriting the map.