5 Lessons I Wish I’d Known as a Teacher (Before Burnout Took Over)

How five quiet shifts helped me step out of teacher burnout and into a more sustainable way of teaching

There was a time when I thought burnout was simply part of being a teacher—a silent companion we all carried, proof that we were working hard enough. The long hours, the constant “yeses,” and the endless to-do lists felt like an unavoidable cost of caring deeply. What I didn’t realise then was that teacher burnout isn’t a badge of honour, but a signal: a quiet invitation to pause, re-evaluate, and choose a gentler way forward. Over the past five years, I’ve discovered five shifts—small, mindful changes—that helped me reclaim my balance, protect my teacher wellbeing, and find a more sustainable path in teaching.

Five years on, here is what I wish I had known:

1. Rest is not weakness

The first shift was the hardest for me to accept, yet it became the foundation for everything else: learning that rest is not weakness, but fuel. 

As teachers, we often live with the belief that resting is somehow indulgent or irresponsible. I thought that pausing meant I wasn’t keeping up, that resting meant letting my students down. The truth, which research strongly supports, is the opposite. Regular rest replenishes emotional reserves, sharpens decision-making, and allows us to respond with compassion rather than reactivity (Sonnentag et al., 2017).

When we rest, we return with presence. A teacher who is centred, calm, and open offers more to a classroom than one who is exhausted and on edge.

2. Boundaries are Acts of Kindness

As I began to embrace rest, I realised it could only be protected by the next shift: setting boundaries with both kindness and clarity.

Five years ago, boundaries felt impossible. Every request seemed urgent, every “yes” felt necessary. But the absence of boundaries leads to resentment and burnout.

What I’ve learned is that boundaries are not barriers; they’re bridges. They protect our energy so that when we show up, we can do so wholeheartedly. Saying “no” is often saying “yes” to what truly matters—whether that’s quality teaching, time with loved ones, or the space to breathe.

Studies in occupational health show that teachers who set and maintain boundaries report higher levels of job satisfaction and resilience (Hakanen et al., 2019). Boundaries are not selfish—they are essential.

3. Simplicity Creates Clarity

Boundaries created breathing space, and in that space I discovered something powerful—simplicity doesn’t diminish teaching, it deepens it.

I used to clutter my teaching with resources, strategies, and endless “extras.” I thought more meant better. But in reality, simplicity is what allows learning to deepen.

By focusing on fewer, more intentional practices, I found clarity—for myself and for my students. Minimalism in education isn’t about doing less for the sake of it; it’s about creating space for what truly matters. And that space is often where the magic of learning happens.

4. Students Don’t Need Perfection—They Need Presence

With less clutter and clearer focus, I found myself able to offer what my students needed most: not perfection, but presence.

In the early years of teaching, I poured so much energy into creating flawless lessons and controlling every detail. What I missed was the truth that students don’t need us to be perfect—they need us to be human, grounded, and present.

When I let go of perfection, I found my students connecting more openly. They were more willing to try, fail, and grow when I modelled the same. Presence is contagious; it creates trust and safety. Research on teacher-student relationships highlights that connection and presence have a stronger impact on student outcomes than rigid adherence to curriculum (Cornelius-White, 2007).

5. Making a Difference Without Burning Out

And finally, presence taught me this truth: you can make a lasting difference without burning out, when your teaching is rooted in sustainability.

The narrative of the self-sacrificing teacher is deeply ingrained in education. But this constant over-giving slowly erodes wellbeing. What I wish I had known is that sustainability is not about abandoning ambition—it’s about aligning our energy with our values.

We make a difference not by stretching ourselves thin but by channelling our energy where it matters most. And when we teach from a place of calm clarity, the impact ripples far beyond the classroom.

The Quiet Transformation

The teacher I was five years ago would hardly recognise the teacher I am now. What changed wasn’t the system or the workload—it was me. I learned to reclaim my energy, to let go of what didn’t serve me, and to trust that my quiet way of teaching was not just valid, but powerful.

Transformation doesn’t always come with fanfare. Sometimes it looks like choosing rest over another late night of marking. Sometimes it sounds like the quiet “no” that protects your peace. And sometimes, it feels like standing in your classroom and realising you can be both an excellent teacher and a well human being.

A Whisper to My Past Self

If I could go back and whisper something to the teacher I was five years ago, it would be this: You don’t have to set yourself on fire to keep others warm. Rest, simplify, and know that your presence is enough.

If you’ve ever felt the weight of exhaustion or the pressure of perfection, may these reflections remind you: teaching can be sustainable, simple, and soulful.

Warmly,

Liz 💛

The Quiet Teacher

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References

• Cornelius-White, J. (2007). Learner-centered teacher-student relationships are effective: A meta-analysis. Review of Educational Research, 77(1), 113–143. https://doi.org/10.3102/003465430298563

• Hakanen, J. J., Bakker, A. B., & Schaufeli, W. B. (2019). Burnout and work engagement among teachers. Journal of School Psychology, 43(6), 495–513.

• Sonnentag, S., Venz, L., & Casper, A. (2017). Advances in recovery research: What have we learned? What should be done next? Journal of Occupational Health Psychology, 22(3), 365–380.