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The author is a supply teacher and therapist in England. VO I C E S T hese days I’mmostly a therapist. That’s where the heart of my week is now – holding space for clients who are teetering on the edge I once knew too well. But I haven’t cut the cord completely. I still do supply days when it feels manageable, still walk into schools, still get that familiar rush of affection when the bell rings. The difference is I choose those days now, and I leave when the bell goes at the end of the day, instead of letting the job seep into every corner of my life. Teaching was never ‘just a job’ for me. It was a calling, a purpose, a role that demanded every emotional fibre I had. And for a time, I gave it, willingly. The pride, the connection, the tiny everyday miracles – those moments still matter to me. But alongside all that beauty was the part many teachers never talk about openly: the quiet internal crumbling. When you love your job deeply, it becomes even harder to recognise when it’s hurting you. That’s the trap so many of us fall into. I know burnout from the inside out. I’ve had the Sunday-evening stomach knot that arrives before lunch is finished; the guilt that you’re somehow letting everyone down even when you’re running on fumes; the way 30 children’s emotions can flood the room until there’s no oxygen left for your own. I’ve stared at an endless to-do list and felt genuine panic, come home hollow and taken it out on the people I love most. For a lot of teachers, the constant noise, the fluorescent lights, the relentless task-switching and social demands can feel like a physical assault long before the emotional weight even lands. And it isn’t just ‘being tired’. It’s the hypervigilance, the sensory overload, the never-ending pressure to perform, to care, to hold everyone together while you’re quietly falling apart. It’s the emotional whiplash of being everything to everyone all day long. It’s the subtle but crushing message that your own needs should always come second. Many teachers don’t realise how deeply dysregulated they are until the symptoms show up in their bodies – heart palpitations, insomnia, tension that never quite leaves. Burnout creeps in quietly, then takes over everything. Some of my time now is spent with teachers who sit opposite me, describing the same exhaustion I carried for years. When they talk about the avalanche of admin, the emotional labour nobody clocks you for, the expectation that you’ll absorb everyone else’s big feelings and still smile – I don’t have to imagine it. I’ve lived the pressure of being the emotional container for a whole classroom. I know what it’s like to hold tears in during lunchtime, to tell yourself “just get through the next hour,” to feel your nervous system stretched so thin you’re vibrating by three p.m. And I know the heartbreak of realising you’ve lost parts of yourself along the way – your humour, your creativity, your softness. I’m proof you don’t have to pick between teaching and staying alive. You can step back without disappearing entirely. Supply lets me keep one careful toe in the world I still care about, while therapy lets me help carry the people who are still shouldering the full load. And the truth is, stepping back gave me a clearer view of the profession than I ever had while inside it. Teacher burnout isn’t a personal flaw—it’s a systemic issue. Good teachers aren’t burning out because they’re not strong enough. They’re burning out because the demands placed on them are inhuman. And when you add sensitivity, empathy, neurodivergence, trauma histories, and perfectionism into the mix, burnout becomes almost inevitable. If you’re reading this and it hurts to recognise yourself, please hear this: it’s not you that’s broken. It’s the weight. And there are ways to set some of it down – maybe not all at once, maybe just enough to breathe. TP “I know the heartbreak of losing parts of yourself along the way” When you love your job deeply, recognising when it’s hurting you can be hard – but it’s essential to keep a grip on life outside school... Our anonymous educator gets something off their chest www.teachwire.net | 17