entry ten

 Thursday 3/13/25 

Today, I found myself asking a question I’ve asked too many times before: When do teachers stop needing to parent, and when do parents step up? It feels like the weight of my students' well-being is constantly on my shoulders, in ways that go far beyond the classroom. I signed up to teach, not to raise other people’s children. But every day, I see students carrying burdens far too heavy for their small shoulders, and I’m left wondering—if I don’t step in, who will? 

This morning, the coatroom reeked of marijuana—so strong that it gave me a headache. One of my students came to school carrying the smell on their clothes, and the entire area was filled with it. What kind of home environment does this child have? How can I expect them to focus on phonics and math when this is what they wake up to? I want to report it, but what difference will it make? I’ve done it before, and nothing changed. It’s just another system failing the kids who need help the most. 

Then, there’s my other student, struggling with the most basic self-care. He’s six years old and still doesn’t know how to properly clean himself in the bathroom. Today, he confided in me—whispering that he wets the bed every night and his mom has to clean it every morning. He begged me to keep it a secret. But what kind of secret is this? A cry for help disguised as childhood innocence. I look at the dirt beneath his fingernails and wonder… is it really just dirt? The thought makes my stomach turn. 

This isn’t normal. It shouldn’t be normal. But I see it every day. I try to teach reading, math, and social skills, but sometimes, it feels like the biggest lessons I teach are ones their parents should be handling. I don’t mind caring, but I can’t be everything. When does my job end and theirs begin? 

How did my burnout show up in my professional life today? 
Burnout showed up today in the form of exhaustion and frustration. I was stretched too thin, dealing with problems that go far beyond academics. The constant pressure to meet students' emotional and physical needs, on top of everything else, is overwhelming. I felt powerless—watching these kids struggle and knowing I could only do so much. 

How did my burnout show up in my personal life today? 

By the time I got home, I had nothing left to give. I ignored my personal to-do list. I didn’t have the energy to cook dinner, so I just snacked on whatever I could find. I couldn’t focus on conversations with my family because my mind was still stuck in the classroom, replaying the day’s events. The guilt of not being able to “turn it off” followed me all evening. 

What did I do today to manage and reduce my own burnout? 
I took a few deep breaths between lessons and forced myself to take my break, even though I felt guilty stepping away. I played some music on my drive home to clear my mind. Later, I journaled about everything that was weighing on me, hoping it would help me let go of some of it. 

How did I feel about it? 

I felt temporary relief, but the exhaustion is still there. I know tomorrow will bring the same struggles, the same overwhelming responsibilities. But for now, I’m doing what I can. Maybe that has to be enough. 

Me: You’re more beautiful than I expected. The marbling—it didn’t go how I planned, but somehow… it works.