We clipped coupons from the daily papers and saved them in an envelope taped to the fridge. We washed all our clothes in cold water on the gentle cycle so they would last longer. We never go out on pricey dates, went without car washes, clothed our baby in hand-me-downs, ate dinners at home rather than going out.
We tightened our belts and pulled up our bootstraps, and we wouldn't have minded any of it if only it had worked out for us, but it never did.
And so, another teacher has left the public education system for lack of pay. This time, it was my wife.
My wife and I both have jobs essential to the function of any democracy -- I am a reporter, and she is a classroom teacher. These are jobs that have immeasurable value to society, but they are also jobs that give a lot more than they ever get.
We were both told in college (where we met) that our jobs weren't going to pay that well. That was OK, we thought. If taking these jobs meant that we wouldn't be eating steak and driving Mercedes-Benzes, that was just fine. We never wanted that much -- just a house we could make into a home and enough money to save up in case our kids wanted to go to college someday.
We played it smart, too. We stayed out of debt and paid our bills on time. We bought just enough house for what we needed with a good mortgage loan. We got a practical used car with low monthly payments.
Our tastes are not extravagant. Our idea of spoiling ourselves is to order out for pizza, pick up some wine and watch a rented movie at home on the couch. We only get new clothing on Christmas and our birthdays. We buy generic drugs and food.
Two smart people with reasonable expectations in life should be able to live on the pay they get for doing a valuable service to the community. And if times get tough, well then we simply work harder and pinch some pennies and everything will be all right. This is the American Dream, I always thought.
We've been trying to make this work for nearly two years now, and now we're both giving up. We will take jobs that help fewer people, but which pay better. We do this so our baby can have a future and live in a home where his parents aren't fighting over who spent $6.45 last month at a restaurant.
Does the system reward people who have skills that they worked hard to attain, and who work hard to be the best worker they can be? For a while it seemed that way. We were able to accomplish a lot in just a short while. We had four walls and some level of security, with a small amount of money put back for unforeseen troubles ahead.
Then the troubles came, and those dollars we squirreled away didn't seem to go as far as they used to. Our bills increased, but our paychecks stayed the same. We worked harder at our jobs, but never seemed to move upwards quickly enough.
And then we made the choice. It was difficult, but the worsening situation insisted that we make it. Becoming a parent, too, had turned out to be more expensive than we had planned it to be.
But were we "selling out"? Shouldn't we sacrifice even more of ourselves so that we could continue the valuable and emotionally rewarding work that we both did? How could we turn our backs on such meaningful ideals?
The hard truth is that ideals don't buy that many diapers for the baby. The bank offers you no credit for the lives you have changed in your work. You can't pay for needed maintenance on your house with good deeds.
The forces that have led us to this decision are completely out of our hands. We tried to meet the system halfway by doing all that we were supposed to do -- scrimping, saving, working harder, taking on new responsibilities at work. But still the expenses climbed.
I remind myself that we are fortunate. We are young, and we are healthy. We have each other, and a baby that loves us. We are smart and resourceful. Many, many people would trade lives with us without a moment's hesitation.
Yet it's hard to see anyone else's situation the same way you see your own -- especially when you dreamed something so different than what the reality turned out to be. They were pragmatic dreams, and you worked hard at making them happen.
Now is not a time for regrets. The decision has been made for us. We must move on without looking back.
We will make a new life, and dream new dreams. We will work as hard as we did before, and we will make them work.
My faith in the ability of a person to forge his or her own path in this country has been shaken, but it has not been destroyed. We can always try again.
This time, we will make it work. We have so much to strive for -- our family, our future, our friends.
Thank you for letting me spill out my thoughts.
UPDATE: Thanks for the recs. Allow me to present my inspiration