At the very start of his career, Ron Meyers had a choice to make. He wanted to be in the business of helping people. Two clear options emerged. He could either go into health care or education. Meyers couldn’t decide—so he flipped a coin.
Fate chose education for him, Meyers said, which led him to a 35-year career as a teacher and principal. When it was time to retire from his position as the leader of Walhert Catholic High School three years ago, Meyers felt he wasn’t quite done helping people.
“I was in my early 60s,” he recalled. “If I was going to try something different or explore a little bit more in life than being an educator—now would be the time.”
Meyers, now 63, revisited that fateful coin toss from 35 years ago and chose option two this time. For the last three years, he’s worked as a certified nurse assistant at a local hospital in his hometown of Dubuque, Iowa, often alongside his former students who are doctors and nurses at the same facility.
Meyers said he’s proud of how his students turned out and the confidence they have in doing their jobs.
“That’s exactly what I wished for them, when I was their principal,” he said.
He’s also happy to revive his interest in helping people. He works three days a week, shifts that usually start at 5 in the morning. As strenuous as it may be to “put his hands into unpleasant things or deal with families going through something tough,” Meyers said his second career is a much calmer one. He isn’t as mentally exhausted or frustrated anymore, a state that he’d been driven to by the end of his time as a principal.
“Parents were once referred to as helicopter parents. I think they became more like bulldozer parents,” Meyers said, adding that over his career in education, parents “began to just push their way through what they wanted.”
There were “just too many times like that that became frustrating, and [I felt] it’s time to just call it a day and let somebody else fight the fight,” he added.
Looking for an alternative
The pandemic hugely dented educators’ commitment to remain in the classroom. A national survey fielded by the RAND Corp., a policy research think tank, in January 2021 indicated that almost 40% of principals had considered leaving their posts in the next three years.
Not all principals who considered leaving would actually do so: Their 16% turnover rate for the 2021-22 school year wasn’t different from the pre-pandemic rates.
Trevor Goertzen was one principal, though, who followed through with his intention to leave education.
Goertzen had spent six years as a middle school principal before he decided to pivot to a job with an esports company. The decision, ironically, was made at an event where he won the “Digital Principal of the Year” award given by the National Association of Secondary School Principals. He was elated, but like many other principals in the room that night, he also knew he was burnt out.
“The overwhelming feel from the group was, ‘I don’t know how long I can keep doing this,’” said Goertzen, age 42.
The pandemic was a factor in his growing disenchantment with the principalship, but overall, he realized that the job had become increasingly complex and tough. To Goertzen, principals suddenly went from just “managing buildings” to being expected to be instructional leaders, public relations and communications experts, and technology directors, all rolled into one.
Tagged on were the pressures of managing a growing student-behavior problem.
“I think that’s something no one wants to talk about: how difficult student behavior is. Teachers don’t feel safe because they’re being hit. We don’t want to blame kids for having bad, aggressive behavior, but that’s a huge part of it,” Goertzen said. “It makes it hard to want to keep doing your job.”
Exhaustion and burnout can creep up on administrators higher up on the education food chain, too. Lisa Walker, the former superintendent of the Monadnock regional school district in southern New Hampshire, transitioned to a new role in her town’s emergency services department after a 30-year stint in education.
As a superintendent, Walker was an active proponent for public schools in her area, often testifying at the Statehouse on politically divisive matters like school choice and funding. Walker was worried that the growing support for school choice options came with little supervision or support for students with mental health challenges or disabilities.
Despite her efforts, Walker was frustrated that “nothing really changed,” and the pandemic added to the feeling of “being wiped out.” It felt like public education was at the bottom of policymakers’ priority list. This June, New Hampshire passed a new law that made education savings accounts available to all income levels.
And Walker felt like the state education department didn’t have the back of public school educators. “That made the battle even harder, not having support from the very department that is supposed to be supporting you,” she said.
Walker, 54, became a part-time superintendent in 2023 and used the extra time to start working with the fire and emergency services in her hometown of Peterborough, N.H. She officially retired from her job at the school district earlier this month.
Now, as a part-time advanced emergency medical technician, Walker can pick up shifts at her convenience. She said it’s a relief to not have to make all the decisions—or have political discussions with her colleagues.
Ex-educators bring their skills to a new role
They may have been mentally exhausted at the end of their long careers, but leaders like Meyers and Walker can still crave the adrenaline rush that comes from being on the front lines of a crisis. Whether you’re a school administrator or an emergency medical responder, you never know how the day is going to pan out, Walker said.
Both jobs rely on one’s ability to stay calm and follow a process when faced with an emergency situation. Educators have the ability to map out steps during a crisis, which translates well to responding to a health crisis.
The other education skill that translates well across careers is the ability to de-escalate and deal with people when they’re worked up, Walker said. These are skills that educators have especially picked up over the last few years, as they dealt with political fallout from the pandemic.
For Meyers, it works to introduce a dash of humor in a difficult situation—a habit he picked up from his time as a principal. Meyers cracks “dad jokes” to make his patients feel more comfortable, most of whom, he said, are closer to his age than the 25-year-old residents on the hospital’s emergency floor. “I tell them I woke up with the same pains,” he said, laughing.
Those who’ve led schools or districts also bring a particular work ethic to every role, said Goertzen. They work hard and learn to juggle different priorities during a hectic workday.
Administrators also get used to not being liked. “You know how to work in an environment that maybe is not always appreciative and maybe is not always warm and fuzzy,” he said.
From his initial stint with an esports company, Goertzen has now moved to an artificial intelligence company that helps train teachers on how to leverage the technology for their daily tasks.
Goertzen said he’s at an advantage as an AI trainer because he knows how difficult it is to teach a classroom with over 35 students and more than four languages are spoken. Teachers take his professional development more seriously because he’s been in the trenches, Goertzen said.
Not everything is smooth sailing post-transition
They may be sighing in relief at the shorter hours, but for school and district leaders, the transition to a new hierarchy, in a different job, isn’t always easy. Letting go of control is an adjustment.
Meyers is always the first to reach his hospital’s emergency room, and he spends his morning taking out the trash, changing linens, and prepping the area for the flood of patients expected later in the day.
“Every day I go work, I’m still the principal of 500 students [in my head],” he said. “Sometimes I see things that could be better or I see attitudes [or a] work ethic that isn’t acceptable. But I’m not their supervisor so I have to bite my tongue or figure out a way to do it.” He tries to lead by example—his early morning routine is part of that.
Walker said she also had to get used to a new chain of command where she wasn’t at its apex. But on individual calls for help, Walker and a colleague still get to decide the course of action.
For instance, when responding to a medical emergency, Walker uses her clinical judgment to determine which interventions to start—just like how in a school, her training as an administrator helped her map out a plan for any situation.
The transition from education can also be challenging for other reasons. Principals and other educators, Goertzen said, often feel guilty about leaving, even if they’re emotionally and mentally drained.
“You go to a conference, and it’s a lot of this, ‘stick it out, rah-rah’ stuff. ‘Do it for the kids. Don’t give up.’ You don’t do that in other professions,” said Goertzen.
It’s important for educators to acknowledge that they can do something different but still serve their communities, he said: “Life’s too short for you to stay in areas and situations where you don’t feel well.”
