I’ve been avoiding writing a blog entry for a while now. Honestly? It’s because I wasn’t sure what to say.

I have stepped away from behavior.

That’s right, I applied for an in-district transfer last year, left the program for EBD I helped to start, and (for the first time in more than 13 years) am in a “normal” classroom. I’m carrying a caseload of “regular” SPED kids and co-teaching Algebra.

And I feel like a sellout. A fraud. I carry enormous guilt about leaving the program and the staff there. I carry enormous guilt about leaving my students. I carry enormous guilt about burning out when I spend so much of my time telling others that they can stay the course.

The truth is that I have had a lot of success working with adolescents with EBD. For years, I felt accomplishment and joy in this endeavor. In recent years, however, I could feel that joy fading. My mental health, physical health, and personal relationships all suffered. I reached the point of no return in my burnout. I was frustrated by my colleagues, exhausted by fighting them about “those kids” being in “my classroom.” I was infuriated by poorly informed placements and failure to provide the most basic of interventions before changing a kid’s life and self-image forever by placing him in a center-based program. And so many other things.

I always thought I could push through anything. And I suppose I could…but I was tired. I didn’t WANT to keep pushing through. So, I made a change.

I still work with LOTS of kids in my classes with LOTS of emotional problems. After all, the kids in my center-based program didn’t just drop out of the sky; they came from somewhere. I feel, however, that by providing good classroom structure, work at the appropriate level for each student, and consistency of intervention in the general education setting, I am having a greater impact on the lives of kids. I get to help catch problems early, BEFORE the situation has spiraled out of control.

I can sleep at night. I have energy left for my own kids. I sometimes meet friends for coffee. I have the emotional reserves for all of it now. Honestly? I’ve always had a problem with work/life balance, and EBD was an easy rabbit hole to fall into for a workaholic; there’s always more room for your time, thoughts, and energy in that black hole. EBD is voracious; it will devour anything you’re willing to put into it.

I still teach a social skills class. This year, I teach a class for students with intellectual disabilities. And, yes, there are behaviors…but I feel as though my lessons have a profound impact. My interventions work. I get to be successful.

I’ll never say never about returning to EBD education, but–for now–I’m in the right place.