Bird droppings November 13, 2026
A Letter to Teachers from a Teacher
Dear Teacher,
Maybe you stayed late again today. Maybe you brought work home and haven’t opened it because you are too tired. Maybe you love teaching and still find yourself wondering whether you can keep doing it. I don’t know exactly what your day held. Before offering advice, I would like to hear about it.
I started teaching in public school later in life, after working in other settings. I remember getting buried in IEPs, curriculum maps, committees, meetings, and paperwork. There were days when the work surrounding teaching crowded out the work I wanted to do with students.
I remember having to argue for a reading program that respected two young men sitting in my classroom. Getting them appropriate materials took conversations, research, emails, and more persistence than it should have. They needed help learning to read. I needed someone to listen when I explained what wasn’t working. So when you say you are overwhelmed, I want to understand what is happening before I tell you how to fix it. You deserve that much.
Being exhausted does not settle the question of whether you belong in teaching. Neither does one difficult lesson, an unanswered email, or a day when you could not reach a student despite trying everything you knew.
Sometimes there really is more work than one person can reasonably finish. We need to be able to say that honestly, without making the teacher feel guilty for needing help.
My first suggestion is to find someone you can speak freely with. Someone who will let you finish a sentence. Someone with whom you can say, “This part is getting away from me,” and begin figuring out what support would actually help.
You deserve a conversation where you do not have to pretend everything is fine.
And when you have a little room to breathe, think about something in teaching that still interests you. A question a child asked. A book you want to share. Something you could bring into the room that would make you curious, too. There may be a colleague who could help make room for that moment.
I have often brought animals into my classrooms. Sometimes a gecko gave us something to gather around, something to wonder about together. Your opening may be entirely different. I hope someone helps you find it.
That moment won’t finish the paperwork or resolve an unreasonable demand. Those things still need attention. But you deserve opportunities to experience the teaching you love while you work through the things that are wearing you down.
I cannot sit beside every teacher who reads this, although I wish I could sit with a few more. I can offer this encouragement: tell someone what you need. Be specific if you can. Ask for company, help with a lesson, an explanation, or someone willing to listen.
And those of us who have been teaching for years need to make time to answer.
You should not have to reach the end of yourself before someone pulls up a chair.
With care,
Dr. Frank Bird
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