The Biggest Mistake I Made Is That I Made It My Life

For our first interview of 2025, I’m excited to bring you Leaving Teaching’s first retiree interview. I’ve been wanting to connect with more retirees because they face a different process and set of circumstances than early- and mid-career teachers who leave. While pensions ease some of the financial challenges (though many retirees still have to work), these veterans navigate a perhaps more loaded emotional journey, with decades of teaching to unpack. I’m extremely grateful that Jodi sat down and chatted with us, especially since it was her very first Zoom. Thank you, Jodi!

Introduce yourself! Share your name, location, what you taught, and for how long.

I am Jodi Sue Chrisman Nicely, and I retired in May. I taught for a total of 31 years, mostly English 10 and Creative Writing. I now work part-time at our local library.

Tell us a little about those 31 years.

I wanted to be a teacher since I was in 1st grade. I never considered any other career. 

Teaching high school in 1993-94 was a dream come true. Students were engaged. I chose the curriculum. I found materials that I knew my kids would be interested in. I knew the state standards, but I was using them in a way that was engaging. I saw principals. When they walked by to say hello or if I happened to be in the office, I actually saw them then. Students were generally respectful. There were some little turds, of course. But they were respectful. They did homework.  They complained about it, but they did it. 

Thirty years ago it was a completely different environment. But the biggest thing, and what breaks my heart now, was that we had autonomy. We were able to choose the material to create the challenges for our students. In the last 10 years that I taught, I was handed materials and told, “Use this worksheet before this one, and then you must do this thing, and grade it this way.” I was a proctor rather than a teacher. The last 5-7 years of my career were heart-breaking.

I feel like anybody who began teaching after 2002—after No Child Left Behind, when state testing started: “Teach to the test. Teach to the test, teach to the test”—I feel like they got cheated out of a beautiful experience. And my heart breaks for them because teaching was so fun. 

Also, 30 years ago the amount of inclusion was very different. I loved my autistic students and I loved my behavior problems. My strength was that I connected with my kids, and that's how I kept them under control. I was not strict. I never raised my voice. I always spoke in a calm voice, kind of the hippie thing.

But in the more recent years, behaviors have become unmanageable. I had no training to deal with some of the kids who were put into my room, and I learned by making mistakes.

One attitude that was different [30 years ago] is that teaching was pretty much viewed as a hobby for women who just didn't want to stay home. So why pay them much? Because they didn't need it; their husbands made the big bucks. And in today's society, almost every household has two parents working to survive, and teacher pay needs to reflect that. We don't need to be paid as if it were a hobby.

I'm curious what brought you to the decision that it was time to retire, if you could talk about that process a bit.

It was a combination of things. One in Tennessee, they encourage you to retire at 30 years, because they want to bring in fresh blood. You get a full pension at 30, which is a thousand dollars a month. 

Also being on crutches for a year. I have a bone disease called avascular necrosis and the ball joint in my hip was dead, so I was on crutches my entire last year. I broke up a couple fights while on crutches—that was exciting! But it was not easy, and that’s part of what prompted me.

Also, with the speed that technology is moving and accelerating, I was falling behind. I'm 53, and I was on a team with 5 teachers, what I call “the younglings.” We all taught English 10, and they were all in their early thirties. So I was kind of the mom.

So every time they said, “Oh, here's a new platform. We're gonna do these things,” I would have to have a youngling come in and show me how to do it more than once, And that was embarrassing. I felt like I should be able to get it. But the technology just left me behind. When I began, my worksheets were done on a typewriter.

I planned to teach until they carried me out on a stretcher, but the hip problems that I had and the technology really broke my spirit. And there is a difference in the students, since Covid, as well. 

My last year, I call it my IDGAF year. Because I did pretty much what I wanted to do. 

What factors went into your decision to retire before you had anticipated?

Well, the hip had a lot to do with it. My husband and I had to look at our savings, and we had to look at potential future earnings. Could we find jobs? Because I have a full pension, but it’s small. Lots of those sorts of things. And these are huge factors: we have our house paid off, and we have our vehicles paid off.

The impending election, the possible fallout of Project 2025, and the dismantling of the Department of Education—those things affected my choice as well.

So when decided to retire, you knew that you were gonna have to get some kind of part-time job. Did you have plans in place? How did you approach that?

I spent the last 3 summers volunteering at our local library, and I put in 50-60 hours during the summer, volunteering, showing them what a good employee I could be if I were hired. 

So when I went in and said, “I've retired and I need to find work.” They said. “Oh, why don't you apply here?” 

So I guess I played a game a little bit, but I did really, truly enjoy the volunteering.

I hear from a lot of more early-career teachers who leave and have really big feelings come up around loss of identity, grieving, and sadness. I'm curious if those came up for you, and how you navigated that if they did.

That is a very interesting question. My identity was that I was a teacher. When I retired in June, I cried. I felt like I had no purpose. My daughter is gone, so I'm not a mom. Both of my parents are gone, so I'm not a child. I was no longer a teacher, and that is all I had been for 31 years, and I grieved.

Leaving the profession, I lost my identity. I had no sense of purpose. I went to a dark place. I did not feel like I was serving any purpose, and I felt like I was wasting resources on this earth by consuming food and contributing to the waste that is on this planet, and I just felt like I should not be here anymore. 

So I want to caution teachers not to make that their total identity, because then when you lose it, you do lose yourself. 

That’s really powerful. Thank you for sharing that. I'm curious how you got through that.

My husband. He knew what was going on inside of me, and he sat me down, and he said, “I know where you are.” I do see a shrink, and he said, “Please call Catherine, and let's see if there's a booster or something.”

And there was a booster, and I started taking it, and so that pulled me through that. And talking to him and weeping... Not everybody has that.

So you moved, you moved through those big feelings, that loss of identity, that grief. When did you start the library position?

I had to wait 6 weeks after the surgery, so November 1st was my first day.

I was very nervous that day because I had not been the newbie in a very long time. I was with two extremely helpful coworkers and my boss, and they were all willing to answer my questions—and pleasantly. I was not held solely accountable for the behaviors, engagement, or safety of 30-35 teens. I could use the bathroom whenever I needed to! 

I had 30 free minutes for lunch rather than 17 (to eat and use the restroom). The patrons I interacted with were polite, friendly, and grateful. And when I left, I left. Nothing to bring home, no huge pile of to-do awaiting me on my desk for the next day. 

Everybody there is smart and funny and nice, and there's not somebody coming in to see what mistakes you are making, so they can note it and come back on your evaluation, and say, “You should have been doing this.” They say, “You did that well,” and, “That's so nice.” I'm not used to that.

School was 98% stress, tension, and pressure, and 2% fun. The library is 98% fun and 2% stress and pressure. It has been such a wonderful experience that I feel guilty being paid for the work. The pay is a pittance, $11/hour, but like I said, I feel guilty taking money for a job I have volunteered for for years. 

Your whole face lit up when you started talking about it. I'm curious, like what other realizations you've had since. Now that you've been out for a few months.

Looking back, I am appalled at the stress I endured and accepted as "normal" for so many years. It’s very akin to an emotionally abusive relationship where somebody is waiting for you to make a mistake so they can jump on you for it. 

You don’t get criticized at the library. The patrons I deal with are happy and thankful for what I've done, whereas at school, that was not always true. That was rarely true, especially with this horrible curriculum they were pushing on us. I was teaching things that I didn’t even want to teach, and so, of course, the kids were not receiving it. 

They cut you down and cut you down. Then they'll give you one little treat like, you'll get a piece of candy in your mailbox, or some club will sponsor something, and you get a nice note that some kid you've never heard of wrote: “You do a good job, sincerely, So And So,” and that's their idea [of making it up to you]. That's like the husband bringing roses home after he's punched you in the eye. And that is what teaching has become.

I was not aware I was suckered in, and I blamed myself for every mistake I made. I blamed myself for every perceived mistake. Oh! And the constant threat of, “Oh, if you do this, we'll pull your license.”

I’m curious what advice, wisdom, or tips you’d give either somebody who's considering retiring or younger teachers considering leaving.

The biggest mistake I made is that I made it my life, and I would advise especially younger teachers to have a personal life that’s completely separate and to leave school at school. Don't carry things home.

I carried stuff home every single night. Don't carry things home. Don't do things on weekends except get ready for Monday morning. It’s necessary to have hobbies and activities that are completely unrelated to school, just for sanity.

And for teachers who are about to retire, it's possible that they also made it their identity, and they need to realize that they are somebody else other than Mr. Or Mrs. Whomever. 

I'm still in contact with several former students and I have asked them not to call me Mrs. Nicely. And a lot of them have started calling me Aunt Jodi, and I like that a lot. One said. “I still prefer to call you Mrs. Nicely, because you are the nicest teacher that I ever had, and your name fits you, and that's just what I want to call you.” But it’s important [to start to separate your identity from teaching] and the name is part of that.

Once you leave the classroom and you're not chained to it anymore, find as many activities as you can that you enjoy. And do them all because they're all out there, and they're waiting for you, and they're fun. And it's exciting.

I really appreciate what you’re doing. Thank you, because teachers’ stories need to be told, and what you are doing is beautiful.