I can’t do it all over again. I can’t handle the mental and physical toll of being a high school teacher. I’m not strong enough, smart enough, brave enough.
Maybe it’s just me, but these thoughts constantly swirl in my head, coloring my sweet summer days with a dark cloud of apprehension. I know God has called me to be an educator, but some days I just don’t feel adequate. I’m fearful that I won’t measure up, that I won’t make lasting connections, that my classroom culture isn’t enough to stem the tide of depression and anxiety in the next generation.
Being a teacher in a post-Covid world has been challenging, to say the least. In the last few years alone, we have dealt with a global pandemic, shifting educational standards, a rise in school violence, and increasing professional responsibilities, all while maintaining a standard of excellence in the classroom.
As I stand at the precipice of a brand-new school year, I am more than a little overwhelmed. Truthfully, I’m terrified.
Am I the only one that feels this way? Am I alone in my quest to find the magic formula that will make me the teacher that my students need?
Maybe you’re feeling this way, too.
Joshua, David, and Moses...They were just normal people called by God to do incredible things. I’m just a normal teacher trying to make a difference—where is my courage?
THE POWER OF PERSEVERANCE
Over the course of my Christian walk, I have heard many messages on encouragement. Sunday School taught me that God is the source of light and life; through Him I find rest, comfort, and renewed mercies every day. As a child, I memorized verses like Josh.1:9 that remind me of God’s continued presence: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
If Joshua, David, and Moses can do it, why can’t I? They were just normal people called by God to do incredible things. I’m just a normal teacher trying to make a difference—where is my courage?
I know that God is in control and He is bigger than my fear. I know His presence can be felt in every circumstance, difficult or not, that I face every day. I know He has called me to be on the front lines of education, in the hormonal trenches of high school. I know all of this.
But then come the parent emails, the staff meetings, the parent teacher conferences, the professional development, the troublesome students, the social media trends, and I just don’t know if I can do it another year.
Then I remember…
“Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength!” (Hab. 3:17–19, emphasis added)
Habakkuk wasn’t a teacher, but this verse speaks to my anxious educator’s heart in an incredibly personal way.
The book of Habakkuk is a short, three-chapter journey of one man’s struggle to see divine providence in the lives of God’s people. With the hand of God seemingly absent from the plight of the nation of Israel, Habakkuk stands alone among prophets as he questions God and His sovereignty.
I have been there. Actually, I’m living there right now.
This past school year hit me like a ton of bricks. Teachers are some of the hardest working people I know, and I am honored to be counted as one. We burn the candle at both ends, maintaining work and home balance while finding time to protect our mental health.
Last year, I didn’t do very well at one of these things, let alone all three. I took on too much, trying to be everything for everyone, and my health began to suffer. I felt like I was drowning, yet, here I am, getting ready for another year.
It all comes down to the power of yet.
“Yet will I rejoice in the Lord” (Hab. 3:18). Just as Habakkuk said, despite it all, my joy needs to be rooted and grounded in the Lord. He placed a calling upon my life to educate young minds. My struggles should never outweigh my calling.
THE POWER OF YET
It was a late April evening, the opening night of Alice’s Adventures at Wonderland High, a brand-new pop musical lovingly written for my students. I had worked tirelessly for months crafting the script while my friend and coworker wrote songs that perfectly told the story of teenage angst and the craziness of high school. More than just a light and fluffy jaunt through Wonderland, our musical dealt with self-confidence, body issues, mental health, and depression, all within Lewis Carroll’s trippy, colorful world.
We poured our souls into this musical and our students were just as invested. I was thrilled, nervous, stressed, and incredibly proud not only to be the playwright, but also the director of this talented cast of young adults.
I was also wearing a heart monitor.
To the outside world, I was living the dream: teaching incredible students, directing a hit musical, working hand-in-hand with teenagers to tell their stories in an authentic way, and championing mental health within our education communities. But truth be told, I was falling apart at the seams, not heeding my own advice. My heart-rate was skyrocketing, I couldn’t sleep, I was constantly angry, and I found myself arguing with my loved ones over silly things. I was out of balance, and my health was fluctuating in response to the stress levels I was experiencing.
It was that great burnout that we all know and love.
Thankfully, the school year ended and I had a short window of time to recover and rejuvenate. I spent time working on my physical health. I attended church events and had dinners with friends. I started feeling like myself again. Summer: the glorious respite for educators.
In the midst of my mental and physical recovery, I began to ask, “Why do I do this to myself? Is it really worth it?”
The answer was surprising: “yet will I rejoice in the Lord” (Hab. 3:18). Just as Habakkuk said, despite it all, my joy needs to be rooted and grounded in the Lord. He placed a calling upon my life to educate young minds. My struggles should never outweigh my calling.
This revelation truly changed my perspective.
By no means am I likening myself to the great heroes of the faith; rather, I recognize that focusing on my problems, albeit minimal to most, can overwhelm me and deplete the joy I find when walking with God. My cup was empty and I failed to acknowledge my weakness, thinking that I could do it all on my own.
Alone, I was without strength, drowning in the churning sea of responsibilities, but when I fell on my knees before God, laying my cares at the feet that walked on water, I found a joy that surpasses understanding, a peace that overwhelms my fear, and a love that consumes any remnant of anxiety.
I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning, great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore, I will wait for him.” (Lam. 3:20–24)
Everything fell apart last year, yet I still rejoice. I was broken, burned out, and discouraged, yet I held on to the hope that God was creating a new work in me for my good and His glory.
I am going into this new school year with a sense of purpose. I’m taking time to steep myself in the word of God, to pray, and to refresh my soul.
I know I am exactly where God wants me to be.
Everything may fall apart, yet we can still rejoice. We may be broken, burned out, and discouraged, yet we can hold on to the hope that God is creating a new work in us for our good and His glory.
As we embark upon the adventure of another school year, let’s choose to take joy in the Lord, to truly allow Him to cover our daily routine with His grace and mercy. Let’s be confident that He will use us to bless our students and coworkers. Let’s truly love our parent community, responding with kindness, modeling our Savior’s compassion on us.
Let’s embrace the Power of Yet.
I can do it all over again. I can handle the mental and physical toll of being a high school teacher. I am strong enough; I am smart enough; I am brave enough. I am a teacher.
