The First Lesson I Learned From My First Year Teaching: The Power of Saying “No”

I sometimes feel like I’ve branded myself as “the teacher who quit,” and as much as it makes me cringe, I’m constantly reminded of how important it is to continue sharing my journey. I left my job immediately after winter break ended in January 2022 and ended up posting about my bittersweet decision on social media. Nearly 10 months later, I continue to get comments and messages from aspiring, current, and former teachers seeking advice, support, and solace. Since I resigned, I’ve been healing, reflecting, unlearning, and I even stepped back into the classroom for five weeks to teach summer school! With each new day comes new understandings and revelations—some bigger, some smaller—about my experience. So, I’m going to continue sharing my thoughts and my journey in hopes that it may offer someone (teachers and non-teachers alike) the reminder or encouragement they need on the day they come across it.

Welcome to my first blog post :) Here is the first lesson I learned from (not always “during”) my first year teaching:

The Power of Saying “No”

When I was in college, I dreamt of being the kind of teacher who would open her classroom at lunch, act as the advisor for ASB (student government), help students start new clubs on campus… I envisioned myself doing it all. This was largely because I saw my high school teachers doing it “all,” but also because of my misconception that the amount I stacked on my plate was positively correlated with how much I cared about my students and with the type of teacher I was (the more I did, the “better” I was). Who knew first-year teacher Katrina would be eating her words?

By the end of August—a mere couple of weeks into the school year—I was hit with the harsh truth: I couldn’t do it all. In fact, I couldn’t even do half of what I needed to get done and I already felt like I was drowning. And then came the window for new club applications on campus. Students were running around trying to find teachers to sign up as advisors for their clubs. The thought of losing one day a week of my much-needed lunchtime solitude sounded impossible, let alone the additional responsibilities that came with being an advisor.

I remember that morning clearly: I was getting ready for school and texting my high school teacher/mentor about how stressed I was as a new teacher, all the tasks I had yet to complete, and how anxious I felt hearing my colleagues talk about the number of clubs they had already taken under their wing. Some had already agreed to 4 clubs—which meant they only had ONE free lunch period a week left for themselves. Was this the norm? The expectation? I heard a ding, ding, ding as I was putting on my makeup. Her texts read, “Katrina. There’s this word. Very powerful. ‘No.’” I laughed and thought to myself, “‘No…’ It sounds so easy… but can I actually say it?”

I would find out the answer that afternoon—yes I could. During my office hours, an unknown student walked in with my colleague (and department head) with a paper in her hand. As they approached me, I already knew what the question was going to be and braced myself to say the single word I had recited in my head over and over. The irony of it all? This sweet student wanted to start a Mental Health Club. I took a deep breath and was honest with her. I told her that I had promised myself that I would not take on any clubs during my first year. For the sake of my own mental health, I couldn't be a part of the Mental Health Club. Thankfully, she was understanding. And it was the feeling I had after I said “no” that has stuck with me.

“For the sake of my own mental health, I couldn't be a part of the Mental Health Club.”

The physical feeling of relief that I experienced as I saw the student walk away with her unsigned club application shook me to my core, as if my body was lifting me up and telling me, “Thank you, Katrina. I’m proud of you.” I smiled to myself and told a few colleagues in the staff restroom. Their support, and more importantly, their regrets of not doing the same, was telling: far too often, we are conditioned to say “yes” under the guise of passion, caring, and commitment to our work. But it’s time to reframe the narrative. We can only do so much—and although it can be incredibly difficult, each time we say “no” to something we don’t have the capacity for, we’re really saying “yes” to ourselves, which will in turn serve everyone else around us.

Stay tuned for the next lesson: Who Says You Can’t Pivot?