The Unschooling of Work - Choosing Not to Be Consumed

More than a decade ago, I walked away from full-time supervisory work in child welfare, and, from the very framework of full-time roles altogether.

Not because I doubted the mission, but because I understood the cost: to pour all of my skill and time into one institution, to be consumed by it.

War touched me in Yemen, leaving its mark across lineage and time. It taught me early that survival is not guaranteed, and that to be consumed - by conflict, by institution, by work - is to risk erasure. My refusal is survival. My refusal is clarity.

J’refuse.

Instead, I chose consulting. It allowed me to remain tethered to social impact while preserving my autonomy. I learned what non-traditional educators already know: you don’t need seven-plus hours in a classroom to learn exceptionally well.

The same is true of work - impact is not measured by the hours you surrender, but by the clarity you preserve. Systems often mistake exhaustion for commitment. They valorize the sacrifice of self as proof of loyalty. But that is tourniquet logic again - tightening until circulation is lost, until those carrying the work forward are depleted beyond repair.

New York is notorious for consuming people whole - their time, their energy, their clarity. To live and work here without being swallowed requires refusal as discipline.

My refusal to be consumed was not an act of withdrawal. It was an act of survival. A recognition that sustainability is not found in overextension but in boundary. That protecting my lineage - continuity, dignity, future - is as essential as the work itself.

The question remains: What might we build if we stopped confusing sacrifice with sustainability?

What futures open when we unschool our work - refusing to be consumed, and choosing instead to create from clarity, not depletion?


cc: The ties that bind


Yours truly,
Amber Eltaieb