I opened my email Monday to find two messages that I was expecting. I didn’t know that I wasn’t ready: ready for the inquiries, the discussions about me (without me), ready to share my blessing. But there they were – a letter from HR confirming my transfer and a note from my new colleague welcoming me.
Immediately, I felt that stirring in my stomach. I looked around my room, which in that instant became a squatting space. Ten years of accumulated materials, textbooks, and student samples sit on shelves, are filed in cabinets, and are tucked into corners. Ten years.
I contemplate who I should share with – do I even share my news? And as I pass through my day, I look at each colleague a little differently. Through the ups and downs, the disrespect and the slights, this has been my home away. I know custodians, cafeteria staff, faculty, and hundreds of students. And they know me.
I read that email from my new department head several times. She captured my sentiments with a knowing empathy. I feel guilty. I feel elated. I feel…
I’m moving forward in my career. It’s an answer to a lengthy prayer for change. I’m trusting this is a move I’m meant to make.
I’m heading to the shark tank and hoping I can swim.