Why I Left Teaching for an Electrical Apprenticeship

For years, I told myself, If I ever leave teaching, I’ll do something completely different—something hands-on, something simple, something where I can just show up, do my job, and go home.

I finally got my chance.

Like so many teachers, I hit a breaking point. The burnout, the disrespect, the admin enabling destructive behavior—dealing with the same disruptive students over and over, only for them to come back to class with a bag of chips and no consequences. And when budget cuts hit my department, I saw my way out. I volunteered as tribute.

I had the last quarter of the school year to job hunt and apply to all the expected teacher-exit jobs—curriculum design, instructional design, project management. But in the back of my mind, there was a voice reminding me of all the times I had said, If I weren’t teaching, I’d be a mailman. Or a truck driver, a welder, or something where I could just work with my hands and not deal with all the bullshit. No morning meetings, no ice breakers, no “we’re a family” nonsense—just real work with real outcomes.

That led me to the trades. I had toured a community college’s trade programs years earlier during one of my I’m-so-done-with-teaching phases, so I already had an idea of the options: plumbing, HVAC, solar, electrical. Electrical stood out. It was the highest paying and least physically intensive—plus, something about it just seemed cool. I had a choice between going through a community college or a union apprenticeship. The union route was cheaper, came with benefits, and handled job placement. And let’s be honest—it also just felt cooler.

So I took the leap.

My First Job in the Trades – Learning on a Food Plant Job Site

Starting the apprenticeship, I braced myself for the worst. I expected to be sweeping floors, carrying tools for bitter old journeymen, and using porta-potties every day. I figured I’d just keep my head down, work hard, and earn my place. What I didn’t expect was to land on one of the best jobs in the entire union right out of the gate.

My first assignment was at a food processing plant, and it was awesome. We handled the tech side of the build—installing the wiring for massive vats, conveyor belts, and fiber cables running to control panels. The job was cool, it was interesting, and best of all, packed with overtime. I signed on for six 10-hour days, but that quickly turned into 12-hour shifts with optional Sundays. Overtime was time-and-a-half, and Sundays were double time. The checks were insane.

But the money wasn’t the only thing that made it great. The crew were some of the best characters I’ve ever worked with—real, gritty, hilarious tradesmen who made every day interesting. There was Don, the biker known as Tie-Dye, who wore tie-dye overalls on Tuesdays and pulled harmless pranks like flipping the blade on the bandsaw so it wouldn’t cut. Terry, the cranky old-school guy who believed in a place for everything and everything in its place and would lose his mind if someone left a tool out of order. Corey, a former boxer and professional hype man, who rode to work with me every day after his car mysteriously spent months “in the shop.” And then there was Josh, an overweight alcoholic who moonlighted as a (terrible) rapper and was constantly trying to get me to listen to his mixtape.

I was expecting a tough, miserable, hazing-filled first year, but I found a crew that respected hard work and pulled me into the fold. No fake family nonsense—just people who had each other’s backs because we were all in the same trenches.

And that’s what I loved about this job. In teaching, hard work just meant more work. If you were good at classroom management, they gave you the tough kids. If you were great at lesson planning, they put you on a curriculum committee. You never got rewarded for going the extra mile. But in the trades? If you worked hard, people noticed. It earns you respect, better opportunities, and most importantly, a fat check.

I had never worked so hard in my life—and for the first time, hard work felt worth it.

The Reality of Electrical Apprenticeships – What No One Tells You

After the food plant job wrapped up, I spent two months on the out-of-work list before landing my next assignment: installing EV chargers with the biggest contractor in the Denver union. It sounded promising—paid drive time, a slower work pace, and a chance to learn a different side of the trade. But pretty quickly, I realized this wasn’t it.

For one, the work itself was… fine. A lot of trenching, laying PVC underground, building racks, and then finally pulling and terminating wire. But it didn’t feel real—it felt like being a subcontractor for a subcontractor, just overseeing other people doing the work half the time. And because I was constantly being shuffled between crews, I never had the chance to feel settled. Every crew had its own culture, its own way of doing things, and—shockingly—a lot of drama. Turns out, grown men can be just as petty and gossipy as a group of middle schoolers. Who knew?

Then there was the apprenticeship school.

I came into the trades expecting the education to be straightforward—learn the skills, pass the tests, move forward. Instead, I got an absolute joke of a program. Online classes twice a week with 70 apprentices, where you could sit there in silence for three hours and no one would care. Instructors who weren’t teachers—just journeymen who either wanted extra cash or felt some obligation to “give back.” And most of my classmates? They didn’t care. The apprenticeship wasn’t a learning experience—it was just a hurdle, something you had to get through to get your license.

And that was the real problem: I cared. I wanted to learn. I’m a teacher at heart, and I take pride in understanding things deeply. But when it came time for the hands-on exam, I failed—not because I didn’t put in the effort, but because no one had actually taught me the basics.

The instructors assumed we had learned everything on the job, so instead of actually covering the material, they just asked if anyone had questions. But how do you even know what to ask when you don’t know what you don’t know? The first time I failed, I realized I hadn’t pulled neutral wires. No one had ever explained that circuits need a return path. I went through a 10-hour retraining, made sure I really understood the bending, pulled neutral wires the second time around… and failed again. This time, because I didn’t pull white neutral wires. No one had told me they had to be white.

That was it. That was my breaking point.

I wasn’t upset that I had failed—I was upset that I had done everything in my power to learn, and the system had still failed me. I had spent my career in a broken education system, and now here I was in a broken apprenticeship system. The same old story, different setting.

And that’s when I started asking myself: What am I doing here?

The food plant job had been amazing, but I was starting to realize it was the dream job for an electrician in my area—not the standard experience. My luck would run out eventually. At some point, I’d be stuck in a muddy trench, on a job two hours from home, or in some miserable industrial plant. I was already seeing the bitterness in some of the older guys, warning me to “get out while I could”—the same way veteran teachers had warned me about education.

For the first time, I thought: Maybe this isn’t my forever path after all.

Why I Quit My Electrical Apprenticeship – The System That Failed Me

The realization that I didn’t want to do this forever came slowly. But the moment I knew? That hit all at once.

Failing the hands-on exam for the second time wasn’t just frustrating—it was the final straw. I had done everything I could. I had studied, practiced, put in extra time. And yet, because of the way the apprenticeship was structured, I was set up to fail. I wasn’t just another apprentice struggling to get by—I was a teacher. I knew what good education looked like. And this wasn’t it.

I could have stayed. I could have pushed through another 10-hour retraining, swallowed my frustration, and kept going. And if I had started this path right out of high school? Maybe it would have been worth it. Maybe I could have justified sticking it out for the long haul. But at 32? After already building a career and knowing I had other options?

No.

I wasn’t going to spend three more years fighting through a broken system just to maybe land another great job like my first one. I had seen the writing on the wall—the inconsistency, the bad job placements, the inevitable muddy trenches—and I had seen too many guys who felt stuck, just like teachers who had been “in too deep” to leave. And I knew I had something they didn’t: a way out.

So I took it.

And for the second time in my career, I walked away from something I had once thought would be my future.

This time, though, it was different. Leaving teaching had been pure relief. Leaving the trades felt… complicated. I didn’t regret it, but I would miss parts of it. The crew at the food plant. The sense of capability I had built. The feeling of working hard and actually getting something for it. And honestly? I still think I could have been a damn good electrician.

But just because I could do something doesn’t mean I should.

Life After Teaching & the Trades – What Comes Next? – The Kirk Era

Right now, I don’t have a single, clear next step—and I’m okay with that.

At first, I thought I’d jump straight into another career. I took some Coursera courses in data analysis, instructional design, and editing. I applied for 9-to-5 jobs, thinking that was the logical next move. But the more I explored, the more I realized—I don’t know if I want a single, clear-cut career path.

So instead, I’m experimenting. I started a Teachers Pay Teachers store to sell curriculum I actually enjoy creating, picked up a sewing machine to upcycle thrift finds and try my hand at Etsy, and even bought a microphone to dabble in audiobook narration. There are so many ways to make money, and I want to see what sticks.

That said, I’m also being realistic. I’m applying to full-time jobs that would pay enough to be worth committing to. If nothing comes through, I’ll go back to full-time at the golf course this summer and substitute teach in the fall. Either way, I’m giving myself time to figure out what I actually want.

And if I’ve learned anything from this experience, it’s that taking risks is worth it—even if they don’t pan out the way you expected.

Final Thoughts – Advice for Other Teachers Considering the Trades

If you’re a teacher thinking about leaving for the trades, here’s what I’d tell you:

• It can be an amazing path—for the right person. The money is real. The respect for hard work is real. The satisfaction of building something tangible is real. But you have to be okay with unpredictability and the fact that social skills matter. The trades are not a pure meritocracy—your ability to get good placements and opportunities often depends on knowing the right people and playing the game.
• The job you land on makes or breaks the experience. Some jobs are incredible. Some are miserable. And a lot of that is just luck.
• The apprenticeship system is deeply flawed. If you’re someone who needs structured, quality education (like, say, a former teacher), you might find it maddening. If I had started younger, I probably would have pushed through. But knowing I had other options made it a dealbreaker for me.
• Leaving doesn’t mean you failed. Sometimes, you have to actually try something to know it’s not the right fit. There’s no shame in that. If anything, it’s proof that you had the guts to take a risk.

So if you’re considering the trades? Do your research. Know what you’re getting into. And most of all—don’t be afraid to walk away if it turns out not to be for you.

Because at the end of the day, leaving one path just means you’re making room for another.