Mourning the broken promises of "next year"

Note: while this post centers around devastation and grief, it is grounded in the gratitude I have for my school community, including my principal and students' families, who have supported and encouraged me from day one. 

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When my principal asked me into his office after school on a Thursday, I thought I was in deep trouble. Questions spiraled through my mind in their usual destabilizing pattern when I’m anxious. Did I use the wrong tone in that parent email I sent this afternoon? Did I miscommunicate something to a colleague? This protective mechanism, despite its reliable record, did not prepare me for the heartbreaking conversation we were about to have.

​After exchanging pleasantries, he paused and then bit the bullet. My position was cut for next year. I was laid off.
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