This is not my beautiful job

Yesterday I got a really nice present. Opportunity. This job opening came up that I wasn't even looking for through a friend who was kind enough to think of me. It's an Industry job, entry level.

So after six years as a teacher, I'd be using my vast knowledge and fancy two degrees to make photocopies and get coffee. And I'd have to take a small pay cut and a big cut in benefits. But the person I'd be working for is an amazing talent with an awesome career. I get all giddy just thinking of what I could learn.

At first I was kind of iffy about it. My job pays well. I don't have to stress bills too much and I have dental and vision and lots of free time in my day.

But I'm also bored. I like my job. There are good days, like this morning when the sample question on the state standardized test was "Who was the leader of the Bolshevik Revolution?" and one of my kids shouted out the correct answer which he only knew because of our studies of Animal Farm. Then another student picked up the copy of The Great Gatsby that I recommended to her for pleasure reading and couldn't put it down. A homeroom student thought Animal Farm looked interesting so he borrowed it, read it in one day then came back to discuss it with me. Voluntarily. Those are things that remind me why I get up every day.

But it's starting to wear thin. It's not like I have discipline problems. Aside from the fight last week, I very rarely have problems with my students' behavior. The problem is more that I've been doing this long enough that it's almost too easy for me; I don't feel like grading papers or making lesson plans and I've started to use premade study guides I find online instead of making my own. I still have exciting days where we really get into the material and I still try as hard as I can to make the class interesting, but I'm losing energy.

And I didn't realize this until yesterday. This opportunity came up, an opportunity that jumps me way ahead in my writing career, and I was afraid to take it because I would lose the security of the job I know. And I realized that my fear was going to land me a thirty year career in a place where I never intended to stay. Is this how it happens? You go to work one day and look around and it's thirty years later?

Writing Partner has worked for several years as a recruiter (which brings up his own issues with the thirty-year job security plan), so he took a look at my resume and cover letter and I sent it off to my friend who hopefully will talk me up. I don't know what my chances are of landing this job, but the important thing is that I'm finally in a place where I'm ready to take the chance.