Last year, I received a LinkedIn connection request from a teacher in the district where I had last taught. She was looking for a way out of the classroom and reached out for guidance. It struck me how simple yet powerful that moment was. Sometimes, all it takes is sending a message to someone who has already made it to the other side.
When I was searching for my own path out of teaching, I didn't think to reach out to former educators who had successfully transitioned or those working in fields I was interested in. Looking back, I realize how valuable that kind of network could have been, someone to offer advice, share job postings, or simply remind me that it was possible. So when she reached out, I was more than happy to help. We talked over the phone about my experience, I regularly sent job listings her way, and I reviewed her resume and cover letter. I wished I had someone do the same for me, so paying it forward felt like the least I could do.
In 2022, as the wave of teacher resignations gained momentum, LinkedIn became flooded with resume writers and career coaches ready to capitalize on the trend. Many charged outrageous prices, an arm, a leg, a toe, and an eyeball to rewrite resumes for transitioning teachers. I, too, fell into the trap, shelling out money for a revamped resume when looking to leave the classroom. And while I don't knock anyone for making a living from their expertise, the surge of career services often felt more like profiting off the unraveling of the education system rather than genuinely supporting educators in transition.
That was another reason I felt so strongly about helping her, especially as another Black woman, navigate her way out of the classroom without unnecessary barriers. Sometimes, all we need is someone to look out for us, and I was more than happy to be that person for her.

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