I love teaching, even though I never planned to become an educator. But God directed my heart and my steps, and I cannot imagine my life in any other field. I also never intended to become an administrator. I had been a secondary English teacher since 2010, fulfilled and deeply rooted in the classroom, when God first nudged me toward leadership. My initial thought was simple: He must have the wrong person.
But I have always tried to be obedient to the Lord’s leading. After years of turmoil in my district, I realized I had forfeited the right to complain if I was not willing to help fix what was broken.
A friend told me, “Go where you can make the most difference.”
As I prayed for guidance, God kept returning me to the same answer: administration.
Slowly, my heart began to change.
I completed administrative coursework, and when an elementary principal position opened in my district, I applied. God opened every door, and I was hired as the elementary building principal for the 2024–25 school year. It felt unmistakable. Each step of obedience was met with confirmation.
The transition from teaching high school English to leading an elementary building of nearly 500 students was jarring, but also joyful. I missed literature and teenagers, yet I loved advocating for young children and serving teachers and families. I discovered that administration was simply another form of teaching. I felt fulfilled in a new and powerful way.
I believed I was stepping into a season of harvest.
The first year, however, was heavy. I dealt with staffing crises, medical emergencies, legal situations, DCF reports, and department upheavals. Staff kept assuring me it was not normal to have this much adversity in one school year. I had no comparison, so I kept working, praying, listening, and leading. Despite the chaos, I felt I was doing meaningful, faithful work.
However, at the beginning of May, I was called into the board office and told that the district wanted to hire a “new leader” for the elementary school. I was offered a choice for the next school year: accept a demotion to assistant principal or return to the classroom. No real explanation was given.
I was blindsided. All of my evaluations throughout the year had been positive, my relationships with families were strong, and the building systems were improving. I couldn’t understand how a district could do this without just cause.
I called my mentors, my family, and several stalwart friends. Those who had walked alongside me for the last year and witnessed the passion I poured into the job reminded me that this was not a reflection of me or my abilities. It was a reflection of the work of the enemy.
After receiving wise counsel and spending time in prayer, I refused the board’s offer to choose either demotion position, stating I was still the right person to lead the elementary building. My legal counsel through Christian Educators cautioned that taking such a stance could result in a harsh reaction, but I felt confident in my decision. However, the board decided to move me back to the classroom, and in response, I resigned. The school board chose to finalize the details of my resignation quietly in June. And just like that, thirteen years in the district ended without a goodbye.
Honestly, I expected God to save my job. (After all, He called me, paved the path, and placed me in the position.) But God didn’t do what I expected. In fact, He rarely does.
That summer was filled with grief. I set boundaries around my pain, leaning into friends who would sit with me in the lament and pulling away from those who wanted details for curiosity rather than care. As rumors spread, I stopped trying to explain myself by correcting them. Instead, I leaned into God, and He reminded me that Exodus 14:14 says, “The Lord himself will fight for you; you need only be still.” I was too exhausted to fight anyway.
Then, over a teary lunch with a faithful friend one afternoon, I shared how I was really feeling. I told my friend that I stepped into administration in obedience to God, and I was angry at Him. She encouraged me to share my anger with the Lord.
Although this seems like a small step, once I was honest with the Lord, my grief became more productive. My sorrow didn’t disappear, but it became more honest. And three truths slowly began to take root in my heart:
- God is good.
- He is good at being God.
- And He is good at being my God.
My circumstances do not change these truths. After all, “Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms” (Eph 6:12).
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Later that summer, I accepted an English teaching job in a neighboring district. Now that I’m back in the classroom and the school year is in full swing, I have a fresh renewal of God’s calling to teach. I see each day as a beautiful opportunity to connect with students at their level. I get to show up for kids, and it’s powerful.
My lament has faded, although an ache still remains. When it becomes overwhelming, I pray for my former district and bosses. I pray for my friends who still work there, and I pray for my former students.
One of my new colleagues (who is also a Christian and new to the building this year) and I have bonded over the experiences that led us to our current positions. Her support has been a blessing. On the first day of classes, she left a note on my desk that read: “You may simply be here because we need you. But you wouldn’t have looked for us without a push.” Then she quoted Lamentations 3:21-35: “Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, ‘The Lord is my portion; therefore, I will wait for him.’ The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks Him.”
She was right.
I would have stayed under the same systems and dysfunction if God had not closed the door with a force I could not ignore and provided a way out. The harvest did not come in the form of applause or promotion. It came in the form of obedience.
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If you’re in a season of sorrow, keep your chin up. Like Hagar in the desert, God sees you (Gen 16:13). You don’t walk through the valley of heartache alone. He is faithful. Find a sacred tribe to remind you of the truth when you forget.
I am not the same educator who left the classroom almost two years ago. I have been shaken, tested, and broken, but I am more certain than ever that God can be trusted, and I can be obedient both in seasons of leading and in seasons of letting go because He is good. He is good at being God. He’s good at being my God. And friend, He’s good at being your God, too.
