Overview:
The author argues that teacher burnout does not stem from self-exertion but from the futility of the pressure—especially high-stakes testing programs—to prioritize the slow pace and pedagogy that once gave the field its definition.
Throughout history, teachers have endured extraordinary hardships for their students. Janina Suchodolska, a Polish teacher during the Nazi regime, ran underground schools and hid Jewish children. He was captured, tortured, and released only after parents bribed officials on his behalf.
Although I do not want to compare modern teaching with the horrors of that time, I want to point out something simple and universal – that teachers were always willing to endure hardships when they believed that their work had a purpose.
Many teachers today still have such courage, as they watch their peers leave the profession at an unprecedented rate.
Some interpret this migration as a sign of personal weakness or lack of resilience. But the truth is deeper: teachers don’t tire of effort. They lose energy because they cannot do the work that makes their efforts meaningful.
One of the greatest joys of teaching is watching a child grow – seeing a student finally grasp something they once struggled to understand. The work has been difficult, but it has been redeemed by those professional moments.
Years ago, my wife and I taught in Cambodia on a Fulbright Grant. The work was hot, hard, and endless – and I loved it. Ten years later, we had the opportunity to come back and meet some of those students, now teenagers. Many hugged and said, “Mr. Reed, you are my first English teacher, you helped me a lot. It was touching – a rare opportunity to see the results of my previous efforts.”
I wish every teacher could have that knowledge. In general, we must strive for faith that our efforts will be rewarded one day, even if we are not there to see it. That belief is what keeps us going.
Hard work has never been the enemy of teaching. Teachers expect the work to be difficult. They volunteer their time, energy, and money often because they believe the work is meaningful.
What teachers cannot tolerate is futility.
Futility is seen every day knowing that the work you need to do is not making the difference you need to make. Futility is watching struggling students fall behind, knowing there is nothing you can do about it. Futility prepares students for tests that weigh what is easy to evaluate rather than what is important to learn.
Asking is the slow, crushing realization that you are no longer allowed to do the very work that once defined your job.
Burnout is not a fitness problem. It’s a problem of meaning — and meaning disappears when teachers are forced to teach faster than most students can learn.
Teachers can endure fatigue, stress, and pressure, as well as the emotional weight of their responsibilities. They can’t stand being turned into workers in programs that value learning compliance, documenting progress, and test preparation over achievement.
Schodolska endured the torture because she knew her work was important. He knew he was protecting the children. He knew that he was teaching freedom, life, and dignity.
Today’s teachers are leaving because they are being asked to do work that no longer creates art — work that robs them of the joy that once held them.
Burnout is not caused by hard work. Burnout is the result of futile work.
In most classrooms, teachers still have the freedom to choose how to present information. But in the subjects that determine whether a student will succeed – especially English and mathematics – that independence is greatly reduced.
In Florida, students who cannot pass the 10th grade English or math test cannot graduate. If graduation depends on a single metric, educators have no choice but to pick up the pace. Placement to meet test requirements becomes a priority, even when some students need more time to study the basics.
This is where independence breaks down.
The system forces teachers to be in a situation where they cannot make the decisions their students need. They are prohibited from teaching; they are prevented from teaching well. They are prevented from teaching in response. They are prevented from teaching to be successful.
I’ve had to make that choice more times than I can count: do I slow down and help students who are struggling, or do I keep moving so the rest of the class stays “on track”? Every instinct for me is to pause, re-educate, and make sure everyone understands. But the pressure to keep moving — to cover what needs to be covered before the test — is great.
Only teachers can see when the class is ready to move on or when they need more time. We are the only ones who can sense the confusion in the room, feel the success coming, or see when the student is about to understand. Policy makers can’t see that. The test doesn’t detect that.
When teachers are pressured to ignore what they know their students need, they lose the ability to be creative. And when the art disappears, the meaning disappears – and the teachers leave.
Teaching has always been difficult. What is new is that teachers are no longer allowed to do the work that once made a difficult job meaningful.
