If you had told me 18 years ago, when I started my career in education, that I would one day be working for a major education technology company as an instructional coach, I never would have believed you.

In the beginning, my dream was simple — to have my own classroom, empower my students, and make enough of an impact that they wanted as much for themselves as I did for them. But alongside that dream, there was always something else shaping my path. Something constant, invisible to most, and impossible to ignore: cystic fibrosis.

In 2010, I completed my master’s degree and landed my first teaching job co-teaching in New York City’s Department of Education. My days were filled with scaffolding instruction, learning new curricula, and mastering the complexities of Individualized Education Plans (IEPs). I threw myself into my work. I wanted to be the teacher my students deserved, and I pushed myself to show up fully, every single day.

As the years went on, the elementary school students kept consistently spreading their germs to me, and so I made the switch to middle school. I worked long hours, often ignoring the signs my body was sending me. Winters were especially hard — I was frequently sick, yet I kept going. That’s what you do in education. That’s what you do when you love your students.

I moved into leadership roles, becoming a Lead Special Education Teacher, then the Support Services Coordinator, and eventually achieving the position I had worked toward for years: Director of Support Services.

I had made it.

In this role, I managed a caseload of 65 students and supported a team of special education teachers and providers. I sat on the leadership team and carried the weight of ensuring that every student and family received the services and support they needed. On paper, it was everything I had worked for. But in reality, it came at a cost I had underestimated.

Around this time, my husband and I moved from Queens to Westchester, New York. My commute became a three-hour round trip to Long Island City. I was exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. When I got home at the end of each day, I had nothing left. My husband took on everything — cooking, cleaning, and laundry — just so I could keep up with the demands of a job I had fought so hard to achieve.

But as we all know, cystic fibrosis doesn’t politely step aside for life’s big milestones and moments.

At 38 years old, even with treatments like Trikafta improving my lung function and reducing the need for additional sinus surgeries, working full-time at that intensity was unsustainable. Managing CF is a full-time commitment in itself. Treatments, medications, doctor’s appointments, and the unpredictability of flare-ups require consistency and care. Add chronic stress to that equation, and the impact is significant.

By December 2022, just a few months into the role, I was completely drained. I loved my students and my colleagues. I believed in the work, but I hadn’t fully grasped what it meant to lead an entire department while managing my own health. The pressure was constant; the responsibilities felt endless, and as many people say, being at the top can feel lonely.

I started experiencing severe panic attacks more and more often — on my way to work, first thing in the morning, and sometimes throughout the day. From the moment my alarm went off until I went to bed, my body was in a constant state of stress.

At the same time, I knew that stress was one of the biggest triggers for CF flare-ups. My body was sending a clear message, and for the first time, I couldn’t just push through it. I knew something had to change.

But walking away from education was never an option for me. Teaching wasn’t just my career; it was part of who I was. I needed to find a way to stay connected to the work I loved so much in a way that was sustainable for my health.

I began thinking about my earlier years in the classroom, particularly when I taught intervention programs for struggling readers. I remembered the instructional coaches who would visit, observe lessons, and offer feedback. That role had always stood out to me. It allowed someone to teach, support, and impact multiple classrooms without carrying the same day-to-day demands.

For the first time, I started to consider a different path.

I asked myself practical questions: What would the schedule look like? Would there be flexibility? What about health insurance and financial stability? Like many people living with CF, healthcare is not just a consideration; it is a deciding factor.

In between reviewing IEPs and preparing for meetings, I was anxiously scrolling LinkedIn, searching for possibilities. That’s when I came across the company behind the curriculum I had taught for years. I applied for multiple roles, but one immediately stood out: Instructional Coach for NYC.

It felt right.

Around the same time, my husband and I officially got married at our engagement party, a surprise decision we made just three days prior! I was able to transition onto his health insurance, which made taking a part-time position possible. Another piece of the puzzle fell into place.

When I got the call for my first interview in May 2023, everything moved quickly. Within hours, I was invited to the next round — a virtual demonstration lesson — and shortly after, I received an offer. Suddenly, I had a new opportunity, one that felt aligned not only with my professional experience, but with my life.

I started my new role in July 2023.

The hardest part was leaving the school community I had been part of for nine years. But deep down, I knew this change wasn’t just a career move; it was a decision to prioritize my health and my future.

Today, I support seven schools across New York City as an instructional coach. I work in person three days a week and from home the other two. My environment looks completely different, but my core skills remain the same. I’m still teaching, presenting, guiding, organizing, and building relationships, just through a different lens.

More importantly, I can now take care of my health and enjoy life a little more without guilt.

I can complete my treatments without rushing. I can attend doctors’ appointments without taking time off. I am not experiencing daily panic attacks or constant exhaustion. I have flexibility, autonomy, and a sense of control over my life that I hadn’t realized I had lost.

For the first time in a long time, I can breathe.

My type A personality hasn’t gone anywhere, but I am a healthier, more balanced version of myself. Living with cystic fibrosis has always required resilience, adaptability, and strength. Those same qualities guided me through this transition.

I didn’t walk away from education, I found a way to stay true to my career, while honoring what my body needs. With the support of my husband, family, and friends, I did it!

And that has made all the difference.

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