Although I appeared joyful and passionate about teaching when I was named my state's teacher of the year, I was also privately suffering from an untreated major depressive disorder. I continued to pour from an increasingly empty vessel in my daily work just to feel normal and afloat. My time as the 2019 Kentucky State Teacher of the Year was a great blessing for my students because of the once-in-a-lifetime opportunities I acquired for them, but it was a greater blessing for me because it was the wake-up call I needed to save my life.
Lost Year
The year leading up to my award brought several devastating losses. My divorce left me lonely and without a network of nearby family members for support, and I couldn't afford to return to my native New York. While searching for a new place to stay in Kentucky, I changed locations every few days and was effectively homeless for a month. I might have reached out for help, but I was ashamed and didn't want to be a burden. Once settled in a new living situation, I continued to focus all my energy on teaching to distract from the sadness that weighed heavily on my heart and made breathing difficult.
Then, weeks before the State Teacher of the Year announcement, my father passed away suddenly. I was crushed but had no time to mourn or process this loss before I was back at work with more fervor.
Proud Moments
At the beginning of 2019—my "year of recognition"—I looked forward to the State Teacher of the Year events coordinated by the Council of Chief State School Officers. Meeting some of the nation's top-ranked educators and being a part of such a diverse cohort was thrilling. It felt as though, finally, publicly recognized educators were representative of the increasing browning of our student population.
Recognition also brought challenges, including my decision to opt out of the White House visit that has become standard for Teacher of the Year cohorts. (I disagreed with this administration's treatment of children at the U.S.–Mexico border and lack of support for public schools.) I still stand by that decision on the grounds that education becomes political when educational policies fail to be inclusive of all children.
My greatest accomplishment as Kentucky Teacher of the Year was rejecting the six-month sabbatical offered by the Kentucky Department of Education. I took the $20,000 that would have been my salary while on leave and donated it to W.E.B. DuBois Academy, an all-boys middle school in Louisville where I teach. I asked the school to use this money to take a group of 7th graders, selected at random, on a field trip to Washington, D.C. This gesture gained popularity in local media outlets and prompted the greater Louisville community to donate enough money to take our entire inaugural class of 7th graders (150 students!) to the nation's capital.
This will forever be the pinnacle of my career and a testament to my love for my students. These young black boys, some of whom had never left their neighborhoods, got to see firsthand the power of civic engagement on a national scale and the future leadership opportunities open to them if they continue to strive for their education.
Illustration by Donald Ely.
Hitting Bottom
The joy of being able to provide such an opportunity for my students, whom I love dearly, did not alleviate my lack of self-care nor the deepening spiral of my depression. Summer vacation came, and without others to care for, I questioned my purpose for getting out of bed. I isolated myself throughout the summer and sometimes barely ate for days. When school resumed, everyone thought I had discovered some dieting secret. I still felt emotionally fragile, saddened, and anxious, but every day I put on my best smile and continued to lose myself in teaching until I could no longer function. Worries and fears enveloped me so deeply that I knew I had to seek help.
Thoughts of my students, coupled with the encouragement of family and friends who knew I wasn't well and reminded me that they loved me, motivated me to reclaim my life. After a weeklong hospitalization, I attended a partial hospitalization program that allowed me to work while going to therapy. I got a therapist outside the program, started medication, and began the journey of finding Jessica for me.
Finding Myself
I stopped trying to maintain all the State Teacher of the Year networks and acquaintances and instead focused on rebuilding strong relationships with my family, school family, and support group. I started to create a vision where I defined myself beyond being a teacher. I have learned to say "no" to more things. Just because some doors open does not mean I need to sacrifice my peace to go through them. For example, I was slated to give a TED Talk in New York City, but I prioritized my needs and gave up that opportunity. I chose not to go to the National College Football Championship Game with the other state teachers of the year, opting instead to attend an event where my district acknowledged my work with my students.
I've learned in this journey of self-care to prioritize what's going to stay in my heart for the long term. A football game with other teachers would have been lovely, but hearing my mother, sisters, and boys cheer as I received a simple paper certificate for the daily work I do? Priceless.
A person's life may vanish quickly for so many reasons. Mine was close to the brink because I repeatedly chose everything else over me. I hope my story helps any educators who are struggling emotionally today, in this moment, to know that they are not alone. We cannot be our best selves in this service work if we don't take care of ourselves first. We are loved and worth fighting for. Being Kentucky Teacher of the Year almost broke me with all the activities, desire to say "yes" to everything, and commitments that will not matter in the long run. Would I change any part of this story? Not at all. I finally have found balance, peace, and, most important, myself. Without this journey, I would still be lost.
