The room had anchor charts on every wall, stacks of novels on the bookshelf, and the smell of Expo markers lingering in the air. My badge hung around my neck like both a medal and a tether. I thought I’d be in that classroom forever. I wrote it all in pen; every plan, every bulletin board, every bit of purpose I wrapped around the title of “teacher.” But the thing about permanence is that life rarely honors it.

When we moved to Galveston, I stepped into a new classroom, a fresh start as a 4th grade reading teacher. I was ready to keep going. To begin again. I thought a change of scenery might be the answer. But the truth is, my body and heart had already begun asking for something different.

I used to think teaching was the final line of my story, the period at the end of a sentence I’d worked so hard to write. I poured myself into lesson plans and learning objectives, into snack breaks and state testing, into every single face that lined up outside my door each morning. For four and a half years, I carried the weight of their stories and tried to be a safe landing place.

But then I got sick. Then my knee gave out. And slowly, the emotional weight of the classroom grew heavier than I could carry. My physical body finally said what my heart had been whispering for months: no more.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t bitter. It was hard. But it was right.

That first week not teaching, I made this salad. I remember because it was the first thing I had cooked during school hours in years. I swapped the arugula for pasta. I added extra Parmesan. I turned up Taylor Swift and let myself grieve what was, celebrate what still could be, and taste just a little bit of freedom.

Sun-Dried Tomato Vinaigrette Pasta Salad

adapted from Magnolia Table Vol. 3 Antipasto Salad

What You Will Need:

Vinaigrette:

• 1/3 cup olive oil
• ¼ cup sun-dried tomatoes packed in olive oil, drained
• ¼ cup shredded Parmesan cheese (about 2 ounces)
• 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
• 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar
• 1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
• ¼ teaspoon kosher salt

Salad:

• 1 pound salami (purchased whole, not sliced)
• 4 ounces Parmesan cheese (shaved pieces)
• 1 box short pasta noodles (bowtie, penne, or fusilli work well)
• 1 cup halved cherry tomatoes
• Kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper

What You Will Need To Do:

1. 1. Make the vinaigrette: In a mini food processor, combine 1/3 cup olive oil, ¼ cup sun-dried tomatoes, ¼ cup shredded Parmesan, 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar, 1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper, and ¼ teaspoon kosher salt. Pulse until smooth and well combined, about 30 seconds.
2. Cook the pasta: Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add 1 box of short pasta (such as bowtie, penne, or fusilli) and cook according to package instructions. Drain and let cool slightly.
3. Prep the ingredients: Chop 1 pound salami into 1-inch chunks. Slice each chunk into 4 slices, then cut each slice into 4 matchsticks. Shave or cut 4 ounces of Parmesan cheese into similar matchstick-sized pieces. Slice 1 cup cherry tomatoes in half.
4. Assemble the salad: In a large bowl, combine the cooked pasta, salami, Parmesan, and tomatoes. Toss with your desired amount of the prepared vinaigrette until evenly coated. Season with additional kosher salt and freshly cracked black pepper to taste.
5. Store leftovers: Keep any remaining salad and vinaigrette in separate airtight containers in the refrigerator for up to 2 days.

I used to think I had to choose one thing and do it forever. But I have learned that life is layered like a really good pasta salad; surprising, tangy, full of unexpected ingredients that somehow work beautifully together. Leaving the classroom did not erase who I was there. It just made room for who I’m still becoming.

Maybe we all have something we’ve written in pen that now feels like it should’ve been in pencil. A job. A relationship. A belief about ourselves. The good news is, pencils come with erasers. And grace shows up in a bowl of pasta on a Wednesday afternoon when you least expect it.

What about you?
What, in hindsight, did you realize you should have written in pencil?

Gracefully yours,

Help keep the words flowing and the stories brewing.
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Reference
Niequist, S. (2024). Celebrate Every Day. Zondervan.