- When I was teaching, I loved the back-to-school season and its positive energy.
- I thought I was immune to burnout because I loved teaching, but I was wrong.
When I was still a teacher, I loved the back-to-school season — the positive, energetic vibration a new school year carried with it. It was like a gust of wind that generated a state of renewal year after year.
It was the scent of freshly sharpened pencils and the blank slate — hope that I would remember to take attendance in every class each day and wouldn't fall behind on my lesson planning. It gave me faith that my colorful assortment of folders, notebooks, and pens would aid me in my endeavor of educating young minds, while maintaining organization.
For 11 years, I taught at five different secondary schools in Bremerhaven, Germany, ranging from fifth to 13th grade, with skill levels from beginner to advanced. Each year was like stepping onto a carousel that revolved around school life as I accumulated experience and wisdom in my repertoire with each rotation.
I used to love teaching
At my main school, I was a person often called upon to pick up the slack of other teachers when they fell ill or burned out. I felt like a superhero. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I had indelible energy I could use to save my school again and again from canceled lessons. I flew in with my cape and leotard, saying yes to the extra work, no matter whether I had seven disparate groups to prepare lessons for. I believed I was immune to burnout because I had never experienced the overwhelm or exhaustion others had told me about.
Four long-term teacher absences and four school years later, I realized I was wrong.
My to-do lists had 10 or more school-related items on them each day — after I came home from hours of teaching. Teaching started to get hard. In summer 2021, I didn't even want to go back to school. Part of me bargained: It can't be worse than the previous school year.
Again, I was wrong.
I didn't want to go back to school
The back-to-school season gave me anxiety. I bought the color-coded folders and pens that had helped me prepare in the past. I visualized it all going smoothly. I decided I would ask colleagues for help. I would go back to school and keep my head above water.
Within a few weeks, though, symptoms of burnout began to creep in. I wanted to call in sick every day, and not in a funny way. The number of times I hit the snooze button got absurdly high as I contemplated staying in bed. Sunday became an anxiety-ridden day of prework jitters because I felt like I would never catch up with all my work — especially with the newest class I was asked to take on.
My shoulders ached with cramps from the tedious hours I spent hunching over while correcting assignments. At night, I would lie in bed so jarred that I would toss and turn. I gained 20 pounds. My hair began swirling down the drain en masse. I couldn't breathe.
I was not invincible. Even after only 11 years, I could not sustain the grind of teaching and picking up other teachers' work anymore.
Burnout was real. And I couldn't cope.
I resigned a year ago
After many tear-filled conversations with friends, colleagues, and my principal, my resignation clanked to the bottom of the school board mailbox with a finality that meshed freedom with remorse.
I would not go back to school in the fall.
It has been one year since I left teaching and took an unpaid sabbatical to reassess my life and career. I moved back to the US. Now when the back-to-school season comes up in cheery Target ads, I think about how sad it is that I don't feel the gust of hope the way I used to. I think about how unfortunate it is that I don't want to teach anymore, because I was good at it — maybe even great.
Part of me wishes I could go back to the high-energy teacher I used to be, but I just can't. And then there's the resentment I hold regarding the overall education system: how the salary is not adequate for the amount of work teachers put in, how it seems like parents are fundamentally contrateachers, how the government doesn't seem to want to fix the systemic issues causing teacher burnout, and how when one teacher falls off the carousel, it's because they were trying their best to help the students and not because they're lazy or weak.
I will always associate the back-to-school season with a blank slate and the scent of sharpened pencils. The carousel will continue turning. I just will not step onto it anytime in the foreseeable future.