Eva’s Work

How long can I really do this for?

Is it simply bigger than me and a self-care routine?

Is this sustainable? How long can I really keep doing this? Is it just me that feels like this? How is it not Friday yet? Why is my body aching? These are just some of the things I have asked myself repeatedly on a daily basis, with increasing intensity. Most definitely not how I thought this year would go. I was determined, when practicing my breathing techniques, on my honeymoon, in the Balinese jungle with my yogi teacher this summer, that this year would be different, it would get better even. If I could embed some of these ideas in my daily self-care routine – meditation, mindfulness, connection to the self, I could make it manageable, sustainable. Reading ‘Miracle Morning’ by Hal El Rod on holiday gave me the inspiration to enjoy ‘me time’ in the morning, meaning I felt more accomplished and more productive by the time I got to work. However, I still had a whole day’s relentless work ahead of me, working consecutive days from 7am to 6pm with no breaks and no lunch due to staff absences, endlessly waiting for the day to be over.

     It is safe to say it didn’t work, despite the best intentions in the world.

I fear that this will be one of the hardest years teaching yet, but in different ways to previous years, with frozen budgets and no option of agency cover when someone is away, as well as scarce PPA and lunch cover and inflated staff expectations because we are seeing the impact of missed school from the pandemic. We are now seeing that, despite the additional teaching and interventions implemented last year, the data is showing the progress is not ‘enough’, and the children are still behind. The pressures felt by Senior Leadership Teams are thereby cascaded down to staff with an even higher expectation, at an earlier stage of the year. The emotional needs of the children are still at an all time high, but there simply isn’t enough time to focus on this, and as staff we just don’t have the training to support them in the way we need to – we need to be trained counselors or therapists but of course we are not. As I crawl into bed each and every Friday evening, I am physically and emotionally drained. I have nothing left to give, and have very little capacity for anything else. After almost a decade in teaching, that ‘Friday feeling’ has become excitement to bathe, comfort eat and sit in a dark room alone for the night. Could it be that, despite my commitment to practicing self-care with my ‘miracle morning’, exercising etc, teaching really is just this hard and really is this stressful and all-consuming? Could it be that it is simply not me, or anything that I am ‘doing wrong’. Could it be that what I am feeling yet again is simply a by-product of a system which is broken and is much bigger than me?

Relationships and teaching

The next morning is Saturday, and while I am still feeling all of those things – fragile, empty, drained and achy, I hope that brunch with my friends and time with family could be just the thing I need. I am wrong. It is not, and actually ends up making me feel worse. It is not their fault in any way and actually it is a perfectly nice lunch and day. It is possible that how I feel is because I am already in a heightened emotional state and I am a highly sensitive person, as many teachers are. But again, it is more complex than that. At brunch, and all day really, I feel disconnected, alienated, out of the loop, misunderstood and like I am no good at relationships and maintaining them. During the week, I feel unable to really catch up with anyone. In the evenings I barely have enough energy to muster up a call with my parents, sort dinner, and prepare for the following day. I do not have the emotional capacity to give anymore to the relationships in my life after a day of giving to children, families and staff. I love my job, I love these aspects of my job around giving, but I do not love that it is at the expense of investing in my own life, friendships and relationships. When I do try to connect and share how I am feeling, I feel disheartened because I don’t feel understood whilst greeted with generic comments like ‘next week is a new week’ or ‘it’s done now’, which, though intended to reassure me, actually have the opposite effect. I realise though it is unfair of me to expect anyone in the non-teaching profession to understand – it is simply impossible. I feel out of the loop as friends update each other on conversations they’ve had during the week and seem closer than ever. I feel that this pattern of only being able to invest in friendships on the weekend and holidays, has taken its toll on our relationships, and I don’t want it to be like that. As always, I pledge that this is going to be a priority for me going forward. So far, I have noted the negative impact teaching has had on my own mental wellbeing and now on my relationships. Again, I find myself reflecting on whether this is sustainable. For all the highs of teaching, are the lows worth it? How long am I willing to do this to myself?

Self- care vs after-care

At the end of the last academic year I heard a discussion by Nedra Glover Tawwab, a therapist and bestselling author, about relationships and boundaries, about how we often think we are practicing self-care, but in fact we are not. What we do is after-care. We work so hard and give so much to the point of burning ourselves out to serve others. Then, we might spend the weekend doing something to make us feel better – exercising, cleaning, reading, socialising… trying hopelessly to fill our cup back up. When in fact what we need to do, is incrementally, day by day, take actions to ensure our cup is maintained. Her framing of this stuck with me, as she urged listeners of her discussion to actively practice self-care before getting to the stage of needing after-care. This is something that stuck with me over the summer as I prepared to head into the new academic year. Although I have endeavored to do this, I feel as though it is to no avail, and I have failed. Despite my best efforts; committing to personal training sessions, dedicating the start of my day to self-care with exercise, reading, journaling and so forth, I have still spent the weekend engaging in ‘after-care’; trying to find ways to desperately fill up my cup. Upon reflection, I know there are things I can do to develop my daily self-care; not working solidly from 7:30am-6pm with no break, only staying later a couple of nights a week, taking each day as it comes, and taking a break before I need one. It feels unfair that the onus is on me to solve the personal issues that a broken system curses me with. Are these not just the needs of the job in the current education system?

So, is this sustainable? 

I go back to the central question of this article – is this sustainable? By no means do I have the answer, but for now I know this much…I do enjoy my work, I am good at it and it is having a positive impact on the children and families I work with and my team. Occasionally, I have toyed with the idea of one day being the Headteacher of my own school, but the sacrifice this entails is something I am not yet very sure about. For now, I will continue taking a day at a time, trying to actively practice self-care daily, rather than after-care, striving to invest in relationships which are important to me and hope my loved ones can continue to exercise patience and understanding with me.

Is it sustainable? Unfortunately, I do not think so. I have always said that when it is time to start my own family, I do not want to be giving so much of myself to others. I would like to be able to show up for my family and friends with the best version of myself. So who knows what the future holds? For now I am going to enjoy the highs and lows of being part of the British education system, and hope that articles such as this, and the book I am working on, and the startling figures regarding the teaching crisis, spark a meaningful conversation about how it can become sustainable moving forward. For now, I will continue working on what I can control: drinking enough water, exercising, practicing daily self-care, investing in relationships, feeling both the highs and lows and holding on to those lightbulb, breakthrough moments in my day, when working with vulnerable children and families. I hope I am wrong and this will not be the most testing year in education yet. I hope my attempts to make my career in education manageable and sustainable are successful. Time will tell, and who knows what the future holds.

Key takeaways

• This is one of the most difficult years for educators yet, with the pressures of meeting targets, the impact of COVID and staff shortages on pupil attainment, staff wellbeing and mental health and the stress cascaded down from SLT teams in schools.
• The personal lives and relationships of educators often suffer, resulting in them feeling disconnected, overwhelmed and neglecting their own emotional needs.
• There is a major difference between self-care, which is preventative, and after-care, which is reactive; take a break before you need one!
• As an educator, there is power in acknowledging the bigger picture. It is not you, you are not the problem, and a little bit of self–care will be great, but only to an extent, as teaching in 2023 really is that difficult and the onus cannot and should not only be on educators to fix things with their self-care routines.

Critical considerations

• How does this academic year compare to other years in terms of stress levels, workload, wellbeing, and personal relationships?
• How often have you reflected on the question ‘Is this sustainable?’ How long can I do this for?’ Be honest.
• How have you made teaching sustainable for you? What advice would you offer other educators?
• Do you mostly engage in self-care, after-care or neither?
• What do you do for self-care?
• What do you think needs to be done in your setting/school, and or the wider education system, to ensure teaching becomes a sustainable profession?

Eva Kyriacou Anastasi, is now an Education Consultant Trainer since January 2023. Prior to this she worked as an Assistant Vice-Principal at a primary school in North London.  At the time of writing this article, she had just made the difficult decision to resign (owing to burnout and anxiety) from her senior leadership and teaching post where she was responsible for teaching a Year 1 class, leading Early Reading across the school, as well as being the phase leader of Early Years. In this article, she provides an honest and raw reflection of the realistic struggles with well-being by practitioners, teachers and leaders prevalent across the teaching profession at the moment, humanising the statistics of the teaching crisis, most specifically the dire retention figures. 

It’s you, not me. I see that now. After almost nine years of giving you my absolute all, I can safely say I am done. I have nothing left to give. I am empty. I cannot put myself through this anymore, in mind, body or spirit. I am worth more than this, and dare I say it, I want more for myself. At some point over the years, I don’t know when; our relationship has become abusive. You have impacted my mental health, my physical health, made me feel isolated from friends and family and from the life I have built for myself. I don’t want that anymore. I have clung on to the highs – the children, the families, the ‘lightbulb’ moments with the children which are simply priceless. But you have become all consuming: the workload, the pressures, the unrealistic and unsustainable expectations, the emotional manipulation, the lack of trust and autonomy, the box ticking and the compassion fatigue has taken its toll and I feel that my body has had enough and simply said no, you will not put us through this anymore. You are not sustainable. Teaching, you have lost your way. You forget that you are not in the field of business, finance, property or assets. You are in the business of human beings, educating young hearts and minds. And what am I really helping you to teach them, the way that you are currently set up? After almost a decade with you, I leave demoralised and disheartened by what you have become, wondering if you were always like this, or if it is me who has changed as I grow older. 

Just know that it was never the children, and it was never the families, it is you … the system, for you are broken. I have had enough. Enough of the gaslighting, of the mental strain, and enough of trying. Time and time again. After four schools, three London boroughs and a number of different roles, ranginging from unqualified teacher to Senior Leadership, it is time to call it a day. I feel as though you have backed me into a corner, and my body has said enough is enough, I must quit and leave to save myself, despite no idea about what could be next. It is not because I don’t do enough yoga, or look after my nutrition enough, or don’t get eight hours of consistent sleep every night, or don’t use my time effectively or don’t know how to do my job, or any of the other endless excuses you throw my way. The onus is not on me. I am more than just efficient, I am good at my job. This is why you kept piling more and more on, knowing that my passion and genuine care for my work would mean that I just got on with it, without listening to my cries that it was too much and I would burn out. I know that I am good at my job and I don’t need that to be validated by you and your meaningless data, learning walks, book looks and deep dives to know this. The onus is on you. You are failing the people who care about you, who know what you can be and what you are needed to be by so many. All anyone really wants in life is to be seen, I mean really seen and heard. You are not seeing me, you are not seeing my colleagues and you are most definitely not seeing the children right now. You have lost your way. 

Just know that it was never the children, and it was never the families, it is you … the system, for you are broken. I have had enough. Enough of the gaslighting, of the mental strain, and enough of trying. Time and time again. After four schools, three London boroughs and a number of different roles, ranginging from unqualified teacher to Senior Leadership, it is time to call it a day. I feel as though you have backed me into a corner, and my body has said enough is enough, I must quit and leave to save myself, despite no idea about what could be next. It is not because I don’t do enough yoga, or look after my nutrition enough, or don’t get eight hours of consistent sleep every night, or don’t use my time effectively or don’t know how to do my job, or any of the other endless excuses you throw my way. The onus is not on me. I am more than just efficient, I am good at my job. This is why you kept piling more and more on, knowing that my passion and genuine care for my work would mean that I just got on with it, without listening to my cries that it was too much and I would burn out. I know that I am good at my job and I don’t need that to be validated by you and your meaningless data, learning walks, book looks and deep dives to know this. The onus is on you. You are failing the people who care about you, who know what you can be and what you are needed to be by so many. All anyone really wants in life is to be seen, I mean really seen and heard. You are not seeing me, you are not seeing my colleagues and you are most definitely not seeing the children right now. You have lost your way. 

In some ways, I am incomparable to the young, optimistic and naive trainee who you met almost nine years ago. I am now a cynical shell of a person, you have permeated and negatively impacted all aspects of my life. You have left me scarred and battered. I want to help mend you still, god knows the children, the families and the staff need you to be better. But I am not helping improve things by working within the system. My school environment was a toxic one, and even as a senior leader, I don’t have the capacity to do that either. To really help, I have to leave, as difficult and heartbreaking a decision as it is. It is the only way. My experience with you humanises the statistics. It is not in my head, I am not the only one. At some point, you have to acknowledge that it is not everyone else – it is you teaching. The annual Teacher Wellbeing Index 2022 from Education Support highlights that a staggering 84% of senior leaders describe themselves as stressed, with a further 54% of school staff considering leaving the profession between 2019-21. I am certain since publication, this figure has increased further. I hope that my letter to you humanises these figures and sparks real conversation about what is actually happening with you. I endeavour to shine a light in a hope to contribute to developing you and make you what you can be, and what we all need you to be, but not like this, not in a school with a toxic environment for its staff and not as a senior leader.

All this being said, I am grateful. I am grateful for it all. For the amount you have taught me about myself, how resilient I can be, how dedicated and committed I can be and how much I genuinely care about people and have to offer. I have learnt how to support families through their everyday struggles, I have learnt the importance of early reading, and the integral role of the early years. I have learnt about how significant the first five years of a child’s life are, how children’s innate curiosity, inquisitiveness and ability to live in the moment need to be harnessed and learnt from. I have learnt about the importance of representation, diversity, equity and equality. I have learnt about the role of critical thinking and sustained shared thinking. I have learnt how to present to different audiences, how to interact with different stakeholders and how to analyse data. I have learnt that relationships and how you make someone feel are arguably the most important things, the need to be reflective and adaptable, as well as the need to actively listen to people, to ensure children and adults feel genuinely seen, heard and supported. 

Nevertheless, I need to take some time to heal. The word ‘heal’ is used intentionally to address the trauma you are inflicting on teachers and staff. To those who don’t work in public education, this may sound dramatic, but I am sure that to most who do, it will resonate. Trauma is defined as either an experience which is especially upsetting, or a shock which is severe and may cause psychological damage. My experience with you teaching has been just this, a prolonged overall upsetting experience which has impacted my mental health significantly. So yes, I need to take time to heal now, to make sense of what I have just observed, witnessed and been a part of. But I know that I will come back stronger for it, equipped with the knowledge and understanding of just how broken you really are. So that when I am ready, healed and strong enough, I can be part of the solution, to contribute to working on your transformation into the British education system needed by the children, the families and staff up and down the country, in whatever capacity this might be. But for now, goodbye teaching. It’s you, not me. 

For Spring 1, I was really excited to use the teaching sequence I had come across for ‘Anna Hibiscus’ Song’ by Atinuke and Lauren Tobia in Literacy across both Reception classes. The teaching sequence and text fit in perfectly with our new topic ‘Cultures from around the world’, as well as our departmental and school priority of diversifying our curriculum and provision to represent our pupils in their teaching and learning. It has enabled us to take a significant step forward towards providing a curriculum in which our pupils see themselves, and one which consciously includes black children, their heritage, and culture. The teaching sequence provided an array of Literacy input sessions to hook children into the story in an engaging way, take them through the story and reflect on all they’d learnt. The extensive bank of cross-curricular continuous provision activities complemented this and extended the learning and interest of the children further. I have to admit to feeling a little apprehensive about how the teaching sequence would work once we had a blended learning provision, with the onset of online learning once again, with the January 2021 lockdown. However, I needn’t have worried, the activities needed little adapting, and feedback from parents, pupils and teaching staff alike has been overwhelmingly positive. 

The impact of the use of the teaching sequence has had a positive impact on both the teaching and learning in in-school literacy lessons, and the pupil outcomes in terms of the work produced across both Reception classes. The sequence ensured that we maximised and accounted for more cross-curricular links, both within the formal teaching sessions and the more open ended activities. As previously mentioned, our parents really embraced the activities, with some going as far as making their own tuff tray of related texts and resources. The children were encouraged to make links with the story, its characters and their own lives. Below you will find examples of this from children’s home learning; we used our sound buttons to record the different ways in which we can move (after actually moving of course), our favourite part of the story and what makes us feel happy. The central theme of the book; happiness coincidentally supported all our work around children’s mental health week and looking after their well-being in Lockdown 3.0. The listening sensory walk was a highlight for many children (and adults) – what a great mindful activity! 

Teachers have also commented on the marked improvement of independent writing prompted by the higher engagement levels in the general topic ‘Cultures from around the world’. After one of our pupils read part of the story, she decided she wanted to post Anna a letter! Other children were also keen to find out more about the other continents which they hadn’t learnt as much about, and explore their own personal cultural stories and histories. These excerpts demonstrate that not only did the teaching sequence have a marked impact on the children’s writing and motivation, but it also ensured there was greater diversity embedded within our curriculum offer, in a meaningful and non-tokenistic way. 

I hadn’t come across the CLPE until I started working at my current school, and boy am I glad I did! The quality of the training courses, speakers and texts used are unparalleled. I always leave sessions with a renewed sense of passion, enthusiasm and excitement to get stuck into the gap tasks. I have often been on courses, where only about 20% of the day is useful and engaging. However, the CLPE has a way of structuring the sessions, so there is a good balance of information relayed (always research-informed), key informative speakers, interaction from attendees and practical strategies to achieve the desired outcome. In addition to this, I think the genuine passion and teaching experience of the facilitators like Charlotte and Anjali contribute to the efficacy of the training. They are really relatable, well-informed and have a real understanding of the demands of working in schools in different year groups. Upon reflection, the courses always start with the bigger picture – i.e. how things currently are or what the problem is, then we look in more detail at why it is important and what we can do about it. This helps you leave each session with real practical activities to trial, and energised to contribute to improve the educational landscape in your own sphere of influence. 

The project I am currently involved in is entitled ‘Closing the Vocabulary Gap’, a project which strives to expand the vocabulary of pupils, develop their word comprehension skills and enhance their use of words in differing contexts. The project aims to marry up teacher subject knowledge and the home learning environment to improve the teaching quality and provision for Literacy in the Early Years. We started the course by looking at the bigger picture – what the landscape currently looks like and why communication and language development must be prioritised. This was all explored within the firm foundations of up to date research. We developed an appreciation for ‘why’ this is so important; namely, because acquisition of early language affects every single aspect of a child’s non-physical development. For many children, language is acquired unconsciously and without much effort, but for numerous others, this is not the case. For these children, whom I feel have been ‘disadvantaged’ by systemic under-resourcing, this is what is believed to contribute to the achievement gap which is disturbingly already in existence when children begin school and remains till they have left! Communication and language skills are so integral to succeeding in the world of education and employment, low levels of language have a strong relationship with children’s later life chances.

We then moved to look at ‘how’ – how can we work towards achieving this? High quality teaching and learning in Literacy in the Early Years is a given of course, but specifically this was broken down into exploring the importance of talk and story, song and rhyme, the use of texts and engaging continuous provision to enhance the play-based learning of children, and finally by ensuring that all children are exposed a to a range of high quality text types. In every session, we have had the opportunity to engage in depth with high-quality texts, partake in a variety of cross-curricular teaching approaches and even meet some key authors! All in all, I look forward to the sessions, and leave each one with a renewed appreciation for why this work is important and a firm understanding of the practical ways I can contribute to changing the narrative in my own small corner of the world. I am looking forward to completing the course over the Summer term and evaluating the positive impact it has had on all our pupils.