Teaching shouldn’t feel like serving reheated leftovers every year until you burn out completely.
Then start by admitting that to yourself without shame. You’re not lazy; you’re overloaded. Pick the smallest possible thing that doesn’t add work: maybe it’s one calm line you’ll use instead of shouting, one student you’ll notice, or a 3-minute end-of-day reset. Don’t try to ‘transform your teaching’; just shift one routine that currently drains you. When that tiny change starts saving you even a little energy, reinvest that saved energy into the next small improvement. It’s not about being a superhero; it’s about bleeding a little less each week.
You probably can’t change the load, but you can change how many times you handle the same problem. Staying fresh means reusing more and improvising less: one notebook instead of scattered scraps, one backup lesson plan for power cuts, one fixed format for tests and notices, one default way you handle late work. Every repeated decision you remove gives you a sliver of mental space back. Use that space for what actually energises you—maybe a story, a quick game, or two honest minutes of conversation—so at least some part of the job feels alive, not mechanical.
No. Burning out quietly and becoming angry, numb, or sick helps no child. Protecting your time and sanity is part of protecting their learning. When you set limits—on WhatsApp timings, on extra duties, on how much you correct—you’re choosing to remain a patient, reasonably present adult in front of them for more years. That matters more than one extra perfectly marked worksheet. Say yes where it counts, but let yourself say no to the bits that only exist because the system is broken. You are a human being doing a job, not a machine owned by the school.