When I move to the next city that I'll call home, I may meet some people who ask about my goals, and as I answer it would be impossible not to divulge that my last one was abandoned merely halfway full, that my plan of teaching two years was nulled; and when I visit my first home, try in vain to explain how resoundingly difficult was this whole teaching thing, some person may smirk while listening, making me unable to ignore that they're perhaps downplaying my previously impossible work, which will make me wonder–if that is indeed the case–what must they think of the circumstances that had me leave that position and place; and then, when I'm interviewing for a job that isn't in a school–which has nothing to do with teaching and everything to do with want I want to do (it never involved being in front of a crowded room)–the interviewer may ask, behind his uncluttered desk and unfamiliarly unfettered mask, why were you non-renewed?
I'll say look: I was non-renewed but not unimproved.
I'll say look: I was non-renewed but not unimproved.