entry thirty-nine

 Friday, May 9, 2025

Yesterday’s meeting with my critical friend left a deep impression on me. We spoke at length about the unrelenting issue of teacher burnout and how it’s largely unrecognized by those in power. The daily challenges—student misbehavior, constant disrespect, and the emotional toll—are exhausting. What’s even more frustrating is how out of touch administrators seem to be. It often feels like teachers and admin aren’t just on different pages—we’re not even reading the same book.

One of the most meaningful parts of our conversation was my critical friend’s suggestion to form a group of teachers to collectively advocate for change. I appreciated this idea. There’s strength in unity, and perhaps, together, we can push for structural support that addresses teacher well-being. Still, a part of me wonders: will they really listen? Or will our voices get dismissed, in one ear and out the other?

We talked about how burnout isn’t just personal—it’s systemic. It’s the product of unrealistic expectations, lack of consequences for extreme behaviors, and constant pressure to do more with less. Meanwhile, we’re told to increase academic rigor, while basic needs for classroom safety and behavioral support go unmet.

What stood out most is that I’m not alone. My critical friend validated feelings I’ve kept inside for too long—feelings of invisibility, of being blamed, of carrying too much. She reminded me that self-care isn’t selfish, and neither is demanding change. It’s time we stop normalizing suffering as a badge of dedication. This reflection reminded me that advocacy and healing can start in small, brave conversations—and that maybe those conversations can ripple outward into something bigger.