Former US English Department Chair and English Teacher Jake Seymour, a pillar of the Shorecrest community since he began teaching in 2008, seemed to disappear barely two weeks into the new academic year — the day a mass shooting took place during a schoolwide mass at Annunciation Catholic School in Minneapolis, Minn. He joined, according to the National Center for Education Statistics, the eight percent of teachers who choose to leave education each year.

     This epidemic of resignations has a multitude of causes. Many cite low wages as the primary reason. Others insist on the poor work-life balance. In Seymour’s case, the answer can be narrowed down to something much simpler than it seems: his anxiety. 

     “When people talk about why I left, I don’t want anyone to forget [that] the real reason is ‘Mr. Sweatmore.’ I’ve been forcing my anxiety [down] and compartmentalizing it for so long that my body just decided, ‘Hey, enough of that.’ Anytime anything happened in class that I did not intend for, even a moment too long for my screen to come up, it was like a faucet would turn on [over] my head,” Seymour said. 

     Many were led to believe that Seymour’s departure was strongly associated with the Minnesota shooting due to their correlated timing. In reality, that particular tragedy was only the last of many straws. 

     “I would have thought [the shooting] to be the main reason Mr. Seymour decided to take a step back. But it makes sense that his reasoning to leave Shorecrest was due to his overall anxiety and mental health being a top priority, as it should be. No one should ever have to jeopardize their mental well-being,” one of Seymour’s former students, junior Margo Armstrong, said.

     Seymour used to warn his classes at the beginning of the year about his tendency to sweat nervously, calling himself out as “Mr. Sweatmore,” a play on his name.

     Generally, this warning would fly under the radar as a simple quirk. Unbeknownst to the preoccupied minds of adjusting students, these “nerves” were more than first-day jitters: They were the result of a lifelong struggle with anxiety. 

     In fact, this anxiety was so severe that Seymour claimed to dread the famed “This I Believe” speeches he introduced to the sophomore English curriculum just as much as the shy students presenting them — if not more. The nerves he felt on behalf of his students were so intense that he had difficulty looking up and watching the speeches in real time, fearing they’d notice and become more anxious themselves.

     “It’s an honor to have impacted young people the way that I have, but I never belonged in front of people. I recognize the fact that I had a lot of anxiety early on, but I didn’t know what it was,” he said.

     As of now, Seymour has been away from school for the longest consecutive period since he first began as a child. With an excess of newfound time and freedom, he’s finally had the space to define himself as an individual. Or, in other words, as a human being. 

     “[Teaching] consumes your identity in the same way that [one] thinks of [themself] as a student, and that’s who you are. I’m rethinking who I am, rethinking my identity. Being a teacher, I don’t think I can be who I am anymore. At least, not in the classroom — not in front of people,” he said. 

     It may be disappointing to know that Seymour will not be returning to ensure that the future generations of Shorecrest sophomores will have the word “lexicon” engraved in their own lexicons and suffer through various rounds of “impromptu” speeches. But, at the end of the day, as easy as it may be to forget, teachers are humans, too. As wonderful as they may be, it’s important to respect and prioritize their mental health in the same way we’d expect them to do for ours. 

     Seymour joked, “The first time you see [a teacher] at the grocery store, it’s like, ‘What are you doing out of your cage? You’re not supposed to be here in the real world.’”

     Now, he plans on moving away from the classroom. As a passionate Subaru enthusiast, he’s already filled out an application to work selling them. 

     For his students, he left the following message: “Thinking is hard, but it really is worth the effort. Questioning is exhausting for everyone around you, but you deserve answers. And, if you don’t like the answers that the teachers give you, it’s time to find your own.”

     Seymour also felt it necessary to conclude his time at Shorecrest with gratitude for the support he received during his time here. He said, “It makes it that much harder to leave Shorecrest, because I know there are people there who will care for me in the event that I fall down. But I won’t be falling down if I’m not there.”