It’s Monday. One of my many alarms rings. It’s 6:15 AM. I hit snooze and go back to sleep. I hear it ring again. It’s 6:25. Snooze. 6:35. I decide to get up. I have another alarm set at 6:50 in case I drifted back to sleep.
When I get up, I get dressed, open the fridge and take my snacks for the day, brush my teeth and head out the door. I’ll eat my breakfast once I’m at work. I walk to the nearest bike station, scan my card and take it out. It’s convenient, quick and, most importantly, free.
Once I get to school, I sign in. It’s 7:30. I’m two hours early and don’t have to teach until 10. Still, I have a long list of things to do. I unlock my classroom and I turn on the lights and my computer. While I wait for it to load, I grab a piece of paper and a pen. I take a look at my calendar and start making a checklist. I divide it into two columns: urgent tasks (things to do today) and not so urgent tasks (things I could do this week).
My computer is now ready and I begin to work: look at the lesson plan, create the content, update my whiteboard, schedule student presentations, make photocopies, write homework slips, check homework submitted on Google Classroom, look at what needs to be discussed in today’s meeting...
It is now 9:50.
Students will be coming in soon. I tidy up my classroom, check in with my grade partner and quickly go to the bathroom before they arrive.
The bell rings. It’s 10:00. I rush back to my computer, make sure all the materials are there and well organized, and greet my students as they come in.
It’s go time. Time to teach.
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| My classroom, last day of class |
I say goodbye to my students, reexplain the homework to a few, and tease the stragglers to hurry up. It’s 12:05.
I run to the bathroom again, grab my lunch and join my colleagues. We talk about our students, their achievements and their struggles. We talk about ourselves, our achievements and our struggles. We talk about the latest news, trends and other things.
It is now 12:40. I should get ready for my meeting, and get ahead with my checklist. I leave the table, smile, and tell my colleagues goodbye.
12:45. Back in the classroom.
I look at my notes and make sure I didn’t forget anything. I continue ticking off items from my checklist.
The bell rings again. I take my things and head to the meeting. I’m early. I chat with my colleagues until the meeting starts.
After that meeting, I go back to my classroom. I have an hour before my next class. I feel tired so I take a power nap. Next, I continue ticking off items from my checklist and add more things to it.
The bell rings again. I teach my class until the final bell of the day rings. It is now 5pm.
Although I finished my working hours for today, I decide to stay for a bit. I need to tick off one last thing before I go home. Once I’m done, I’m one of the last ones to sign out.
I bike home so I can clear my head for a bit. Once I get home, I make dinner and continue to work until 10:30 PM.
I brush my teeth, send a few messages and go to bed.
And the same thing again, tomorrow.
This is a routine I’ve established for myself until Friday comes. More often than not, I work on Sunday so I can get ahead from my checklist.
If I were to compile the amount of work I do within a week, it would easily be 50-60 hours. It can fluctuate up to 70 during report card season.
I’m a workaholic.
I have difficulty disconnecting from work and don’t know when to stop working. I can’t bring myself to go out on weeknights because I drown myself with work. If I go out, I feel guilty; I feel like I should be doing something productive for my career. I always have to think about my checklist, my students and my responsibilities. I’m a workaholic. A work machine always on the run.
I don’t need help either. I am competent. Asking for help is a sign of weakness. If I falter, I fail. If I fail, it's because I didn’t work hard enough. I need to keep pushing myself. Feel tired? Get some coffee. Feel stressed? Go workout.
I am competent. I can do this by myself. I am strong. I need to keep pushing.
I then start questioning myself: Why am I so inefficient? Why am I so slow? Why do I feel so tired all the time? Why am I so impatient? Why is it so hard to teach? Why is everything falling apart right in front of me? What is happening to the quality of my work? Why am I in such bad shape? Am I losing my sanity?
And before I know it, I break down. I lose it. I cry. Uncontrollably. I realized that I’ve lost control long before I knew it. I’ve been so busy trying to push myself, being in denial that I didn’t realize what was happening around me. I forgot to actually stop and look around. And when I do, all I see is a teacher trying so hard. A teacher trying to push herself beyond her limits, trying to find energy when there was none left. A teacher whose body and mind gave out long ago despite the warning signs. She cried multiple times a week and felt suffocated, overwhelmed. She just kept telling herself it was part of the process and to get over it: It’s happened before. I’m strong. I’ll get over it.
I was treating myself inhumanely, enslaving myself in my own work. I was losing myself.
Eventually, I had to face the truth: I couldn't do everything by myself. I wasn't super. I needed help.
So, I swallowed my pride and sought help. I realized that my fears were irrational. No one saw me as a lesser teacher. I was competent, professional and treated everyone with respect. The response I thought I would get did not make sense. People around me were concerned and wanted me to get better. No one thought I was weak or unqualified. It was all in my head.
Thankfully, I was able to recover and be myself again quite quickly. I was able to be this energetic, bubbly teacher that always had a smile on her face. I became more assertive too. It felt good to say no. It felt good to give myself a break. It felt good to live and breathe a normal life.
