To Academe or Not

 Lately, I have found myself at a quiet crossroads, the kind that doesn’t come with grand announcements or life-altering revelations. Just the slow realization that maybe something beautiful in my life needs to be set down. For now.

I have been thinking, really thinking, about giving up my academic post. Not because I’ve stopped loving teaching. On the contrary, I think the opportunity to teach is one of the most beautiful gifts life has given me. I love the quiet electricity of a good discussion, the way teaching demands presence, clarity, heart, and even a bit of performance. I know I’m good at it. I know my heart is in it.

But I also know this: that sometimes, finding your ikigai is not enough. 

Because this opportunity, this calling, came at a time in my life that feels painfully misaligned. I am, above all else, a mother. I have two school-aged daughters who need me not just in the abstract sense, but in the everyday: in drop-offs and pick-ups, in homework and projects, in bedtime stories and butterfly kisses, in mornings filled with misplaced socks and last-minute art projects. I don’t want to look back years from now and realize I was present in other people’s children’s learning but absent from my own children’s becoming.

And there is the practical reality that tugs at the heart of every working mother’s decision: time versus worth. Government academic work, no matter how noble or fulfilling, pays very little. The emotional and physical effort I pour into it does not translate into financial security. Compared to private practice, the imbalance is stark. I find myself exhausted from teaching, mentoring, managing, and planning, only to come home and feel the cracks of my own home life widen.

Adding to the weight of this decision is something even more personal: two years ago, I enrolled in a Master’s program in Health Professions Education. It was not a whim. It was a deliberate choice to grow, to become a better teacher, to serve students more meaningfully. But now I find myself asking: what was it all for? If I walk away from the classroom, from the very platform where I hoped to apply these learnings, will it still make sense? What becomes of all that time, energy, and hope I invested in becoming better?

So here I am, not quite making a decision, but circling around one. I haven’t filed any papers. I haven’t packed up my books. But in my heart, I am weighing the costs of holding on, and of letting go.

Maybe this season of my life is meant for something else. Perhaps I need to step away from the auditorium platform to sit more often on the floor, building castles out of blocks and memories. Maybe this is the time to strengthen our financial footing, so I can one day return to teaching with more freedom, and less compromise.

And maybe, if academic work is truly meant for me, God will open another door in a place more aligned with who I am and what I value.

For now, I hold all these thoughts with tenderness, not certainty. I let them simmer. I whisper to myself: it is not failure to choose your children. It is not weakness to prioritize your peace.

It is, perhaps, just another kind of teaching. This time, teaching myself how to live with gentleness and grace. Perhaps I can prove my worth better if I muster the courage to let go of beautiful things, so that I can spend time with the mundane, everyday things that matter the most.