The other day, I was catching up with a friend who teaches at a local high school. I shared a workshop I recently developed and asked for her honest feedback. She listened intently but shook her head as soon as I finished.
"You know," she said, "teachers don't want to attend workshops like this. They don't want one more thing on their plate."
Her words hit me hard. I know how heavy teachers' plates already are—lesson plans, grading, meetings, managing classroom dynamics, and everything else. But her next point really stayed with me.
"They're literally choosing to ignore the need for self-care," she said. "It's why the burnout rate is so high."
And she’s right. According to a 2022 survey, 44% of teachers considered leaving the profession due to stress—a burnout rate that should give us all pause.
The Disconnect
I get it. When you’re in the thick of the school year, juggling a thousand demands, carving out time for yourself feels impossible. How can you "zoom out" and take a step back when there are so many fires to put out?
But here's the thing: if you don't take the time to pause and check in with yourself, you'll be blindsided when life inevitably throws you an emergency. And emergencies don’t ask whether your calendar is free.
The Classroom of One
As someone who homeschools my son, I understand how easy it is to get caught up in the constant demands of teaching and learning. Even in my small classroom of one, I’ve felt the pull to sacrifice my own well-being for the sake of “getting it all done.”
But I’ve learned something valuable in this process: taking intentional time for self-care doesn’t just help me—it benefits my son, too. When I give myself permission to pause, I show up as a better version of myself, ready to meet his needs with patience and presence.
The Workshop They Don’t Want but Desperately Need
The workshop I designed isn’t about adding one more thing to the to-do list. It’s about helping teachers (or anyone, really) take intentional time to slow down, reflect, and plan for the curveballs that come their way. It’s a chance to recalibrate and prioritize themselves—not just as professionals but as people.
This isn’t a guilt trip or a lecture. It’s an invitation to step off the hamster wheel, even if just for a moment, to remember that you matter too.
What’s Next?
To all the teachers out there (and anyone else feeling the burnout creep in): I see you. You’re doing incredible, important work, and you deserve to sustain yourself while you do it.
The question is, will you give yourself permission to pause?
Because if you do, that might just be the most important lesson of all.
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