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Tag: Teacher Wellbeing

Exhausted teacher at the end of September. Should I leave teaching?

If you’re Googling ‘Will I regret leaving teaching?’ right now…

Written by Hannah Young on . Posted in Overwhelm and Burnout. No Comments on If you’re Googling ‘Will I regret leaving teaching?’ right now…

If you’re Googling ‘Will I regret leaving teaching?’ right now…maybe the real question is, ‘Is it possible to stay?’

Wow, September really did a number on you. It was returning in a post-Covid September that tipped the balance for me.

When I started out I kind of knew what I was getting into (growing up watching my teacher mum work all evening, and hearing stories of my teacher dad getting out after 3 years)…but I guess I wasn’t prepared for living the reality of it.

Being a teacher is not ‘just’ teaching. It’s managing moods; anticipating and de-escalating conflict; playing politics; data management that feels like a tick-box exercise; heck, even spending your own money on supplies (and I’m not joking when I say my mum used to buy me packs of gluesticks for Christmas).

It’s also the personal fallout – being a crap friend; a snappy partner; a distant daughter. Honestly, I didn’t really like who I was when I was teaching. I could bring the very best of myself out for 60 minutes 4 or 5 times, then disappear into a shell when I arrived home. And my health? Ask me how long you can survive on tea and toast for dinner.

I’d already written my resignation letter just before Covid hit but never handed it in. Being locked down gave me some of myself back, but when the reality of post-Covid education hit the following September, I was done.

BUT (and it’s a pretty big but)…

I loved teaching. Really loved it. There is no feeling that compares to having a class in the palm of your hand and watching a bunch of teenagers’ eyes widen as something you’ve been banging on about for weeks finally lands. Or the in-jokes! Oh, the in-jokes! And Year 11 – ah! Joy!

And this is why I say the balance tipped – it was very much teacher joy vs my own joy. Finally, the need to look after myself and reclaim an energy for life finally won out.

I didn’t see another way.

I didn’t think it was possible to be a teacher and live any other way.

But what if there had been?

Now – I offer women just like you the chance to pause before making the jump. To explore the possibility that there is a way to make it work: to put your wellbeing first; to reconnect with the joy of knowing who you are outside the classroom; to set and hold boundaries that protect you and your relationships; and to get clarity on what you want.

And if the answer at the end of all of that is still, ‘I have to leave’, you’ll have reached the decision from a place of calm clarity, not panic.

So, if you’re Googling ‘Will I regret leaving teaching?’ I already know three things:

1 – You love it

2 – You want to know if there’s a way to make it work, and

3 – if there is a way to make it work, where do you even start?

Am I right? Join me on Instagram to be part of the conversation.

“Should I leave teaching?” Well, maybe not today.

Written by Hannah Young on . Posted in Overwhelm and Burnout. No Comments on “Should I leave teaching?” Well, maybe not today.

“Should I leave teaching?” The million-dollar question…

We’re about 4 or 5 weeks into the new academic year, and already school staff are dropping like flies. Conversations in support forums typically begin with some version of, “I’m not sure I can do this anymore.” Leaders are giving up their leadership responsibilities; teachers are asking for advice on what other jobs they can do; and pastoral and support staff are already tiring of the fatal mix of challenging behaviour from students and lack of support from above.

And I’m having these conversations too – over coffee with friends and with clients in my coaching room…

“How do I survive this?”

I spoke to a client recently about there being a certain level of acceptance that this is a really, really difficult term. If you’re a teacher, leader or member of pastoral staff who genuinely loves her job, accepting (rather than resisting) how this term feels can (as counter-intuitive as it seems) bring some relief. If we accept that it is what it is, but add in self-care non-negotiables, I can support my clients to take care of themselves throughout this period of extreme demand – getting adequate sleep, focussing on good nutrition, getting out into nature, and doing things that bring her joy.

But what if you want out?

And this is what I’m seeing more of…a feeling that this year isn’t going to be any different. That the energy and love for education is no longer enough to make the stress, the long hours and the personal sacrifice worth staying.

It’s devastating. Because these are women who care deeply. Who are brilliant at their jobs.

But they are 3, 6, 10 years or more into a job and they’re wondering, “Does it really get any easier?”

The decision doesn’t have to be made today…

Making the decision to leave teaching is hugely emotional. There are the years of learning and training you sacrificed. The hours spent at your kitchen table marking books. The sleepless nights wondering how to engage your trickiest students. The tears on the way home after an awful day. The fact that this is who you are…

So it can’t be rushed…and the best decisions are made when you feel in charge of your emotions – with headspace and clarity.

My advice?

If you’re a few weeks in to the new academic year and you’re already looking for an exit, give it a few more weeks. Focus not on making the decision, but on looking after yourself enough to create the capacity to decide whether or not to leave teaching (or your pastoral role). What does that look like? Two days a week when you leave on time; creating a ritual to transition from school to home; planning rest and something that brings you joy for the weekend….

Even if you can claim a couple of hours a week that feel like they’re filling your cup, you’ll be able to tune in to what you really want to do. And if that is leaving the classroom, at least you’ll know you left out of choice, rather than necessity.

If you want some support in weighing up your options, book a virtual coffee with me to find out how I can help.

 

Why do so many teachers burn out?

Teacher burnout isn’t just about the workload

Written by Hannah Young on . Posted in Overwhelm and Burnout. No Comments on Teacher burnout isn’t just about the workload

It’s taken me a while to realise it, but the main causes of burnout in teaching go far deeper than the workload

I left teaching 6 years ago, and even now when someone asks me about it, I automatically spit out something about the workload. “I couldn’t hack it,” I’ll say.

But it’s taken me all this time, and working with women who are sitting where I was when I decided to give it up, to realise that the reasons I was running on empty were so much more complex than the hours I was working.

Don’t get me wrong. Working 70-hour weeks was no fun. It took over my evenings and weekends, and every waking moment I felt this huge pull that I ‘should’ or ‘could’ be doing something to make the next day, the next week, the next term easier.

But what I know now is that there was so much more to address. If I’d gone into a 9-5 office job, I’d still be hitting the same wall of exhaustion at 7pm every night. It’s the reason why moving into pastoral didn’t really solve anything for me.

And it’s the reason I don’t just talk about coping with workload with the women I support in my coaching room. Here’s what I should have been addressing 6 years ago:

The identity loss

I became the job. I martyred myself to it and was proud of that fact. It was what I talked about. What energised me when I saw friends. But there’s only so far that will carry you before you start to grieve the person you were…or, even worse, you grieve for the fact you don’t even know who you are anymore. Strip the job away, and you have nothing to offer.

The constant stimulation

Your nervous system stays wired. You respond to a thousand questions, subtle (and not so subtle) changes in behaviour, everyone else’s needs. All the while supressing your own needs – even the most basic. It’s why you cry when you realise you’ve no bread left at home; or fly into a rage when the dishwasher just won’t stack properly.

The changing goalposts

Even with the hours, the workload, you can kind of cope when you know what you’re doing. You know the behaviour policy well and you apply it. The exact requirements of the exam board. The best way to make this particular text accessible. Then you go back in September and – SURPRISE! – it’s all changed. Cue massive knock in confidence and the mental gymnastics to work out when you’re going to relearn all of this. Maybe I’m not such a great teacher after all, you wonder.

You see, all of this is about YOU – not the job. We can talk about boundaries, time-management and self-care (which of course, we do!) BUT we have to get to the stuff that’s going to give you deep and lasting change – whether you stay or not. That is: who are you, without the job? How do you get your nervous system out of years in fight or flight? And how do we rebuild the confidence and self-trust you need to be resilient towards the inevitable changes that you’re faced with?

THIS is where we start. So if you’re a teacher who finds herself skating on the edge of burnout, book a virtual coffee with me to find out how I can support you.

Feeling Overwhelmed in Education? Learning to Listen to Your Nervous System

Written by Hannah Young on . Posted in Overwhelm and Burnout. No Comments on Feeling Overwhelmed in Education? Learning to Listen to Your Nervous System

How did it take me until my late 30s to really understand what my nervous system was trying to tell me in any given moment?

In the final couple of years of my role as an Attendance Officer in a busy, challenging inner-city school, I would tell my boss I was having a moment whenever I was feeling “fizzy”. This wasn’t a code word; I literally felt fizzy. My body would be sparking, my ears ringing, and my heart – not racing exactly – but certainly getting a bit of a gallop on.

This would often happen after a particularly busy, unpredictable morning. Perhaps there had been a safeguarding issue, a difficult parent conversation, a child in crisis, or maybe a student had told me to F*** off just to round things off nicely. Over time, I learned to recognise that feeling and, importantly, what it meant. I knew my nervous system was overloaded and that if I could take ten minutes in a quiet space, I stood a much better chance of getting through the rest of the day.

The thing is, this awareness didn’t arrive overnight. I’d spent the best part of eight years working in that same school without really being able to tune into what my body was telling me in real time. Instead, I would push through, keep going, and then wonder why I found myself asleep on the sofa at seven o’clock in the evening after inhaling a party pack of onion rings and a couple of iced buns.

Looking back, I can see that my response to stress was both delayed and unhelpful. At the time, though, I think I simply assumed that this was what working in education felt like. I thought it was normal to spend most of the term running on adrenaline and then limp my way towards the next school holiday hoping it would somehow be enough to recharge me.

It’s a pattern I now see in so many of the women I work with. They are often highly capable, deeply caring professionals who have become so used to carrying responsibility that they no longer notice the signs that their nervous system has been struggling for months, or even years. They tell themselves they’re tired because work is busy, overwhelmed because life is demanding, emotional because they’re not coping very well. What they don’t realise is that their bodies have been trying to get their attention all along.

When I eventually moved into a pastoral role, the work was still incredibly stressful, but I had a little more freedom to step away when I needed to. I could leave the office, find a quiet space and actually listen to what was happening internally rather than automatically overriding it. It was probably the first time I began to understand that stress wasn’t just something happening in my head. My body was involved in the conversation too.

That understanding has become one of the foundations of the coaching work I do today with overwhelmed and burnt-out women, particularly those working in education. Before we start talking about goals, confidence, boundaries or life changes, we spend time understanding the nervous system. We explore what overwhelm feels like in their body, how stress responses have shaped their behaviour over time, and why they may find themselves stuck in patterns that no longer serve them.

Because when you begin to understand your nervous system, so much starts to make sense. The exhaustion. The irritability. The emotional eating. The inability to switch off. The feeling that you’re constantly behind, even when you’re doing more than enough. What often looks like laziness, failure or a lack of resilience is, in reality, a nervous system that has been carrying too much for too long.

I’ve found that real change becomes possible when we stop judging those responses and start understanding them instead. Once we can recognise what our bodies have been trying to tell us, we can respond differently. We can begin to meet our needs earlier, create healthier boundaries, and move away from simply surviving each week.

For many women experiencing burnout in education, that shift is where recovery begins. Not by trying harder, becoming more productive or finding a better planner, but by learning how to listen.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, exhausted or stuck in survival mode, coaching can help you understand what’s really going on beneath the surface and reconnect with the version of yourself that feels calm, clear and capable. I offer life coaching for women in education both online and in Leeds, supporting clients to recover from burnout, rebuild trust in themselves and create a life that feels sustainable again.