I swore I was not going to nap again. But the yawn escaping my lips and my weepy eyes tell me otherwise—I am exhausted, again, this week. It is barely 6:00 p.m. on a Tuesday, and most of the week still stretches ahead of me. I have dinner to cook, lesson plans to finish, and a to-do list that never ends. Welcome to the life of a teacher in early May, mere weeks away from summer vacation.
Just recently, I sat in my doctor’s office describing my exhaustion, my frequent napping, my inability to shake the fatigue. Her advice was reasonable: Eat more protein and exercise more. Driving home, I kept turning the conversation over in my mind. Protein and exercise are good answers, but are they the answers I was looking for? What I was feeling was not just a nutritional gap or even a need for movement. It was the accumulated weight of months of giving everything to a job that asks everything of teachers.
Why was I so tired? Many of us have heard the phrase “teacher tired,” but it’s worth naming what that actually means. This is not the ordinary tired that comes from a long day. “Teacher tired” is a deeper fatigue, the kind built from the cumulative weight of everything the job asks of us: the emotional labor of caring for dozens of students, the relentless decisionmaking, the hours that extend beyond the bell. It is all of it, all at once, day after day.
The true culprit was not what I was eating or if I was moving enough. It was that I had stopped being proactive about taking care of myself—my energy, my routine, my basic needs. Somewhere along the way, I had moved to the bottom of my own priority list.
One of the most important things I have learned in adulthood is this: You cannot pour from an empty cup. Teachers, we need our sleep. We need to eat real food spread throughout the day, not just whatever we can grab between periods. We need a routine that serves us, not just our students and our schools.
Research supports what most of us already know intuitively about the value of even small changes to our daily routines. More than a decade ago, a randomized controlled trial found that even 10 minutes of daily mindfulness practice can meaningfully reduce teachers’ stress and emotional exhaustion over time. Ten minutes. This is not a large ask for anyone. We do not need a perfect self-care routine, just one that we can realistically use to put ourselves back on our own priority list.
Recently, I lost sight of all of this—and I did not even realize it was happening until the exhaustion caught up with me. It will happen to you. It happens to all of us. When it does, do not wait for a better time or a less busy week.
Pick something you enjoy and give yourself 15 to 30 minutes with it. Take a walk around the block. Sing to your favorite playlist while you do the dishes. Play with your kids or your pet. Physical activity lowers cortisol levels and measurably improves sleep. Movement is medicine, even in small doses.
You will not regret the time you spend taking care of yourself. When you take care of yourself, you will be better prepared to be there for those you love and care about. For all of you who show up every day to take care of the next generation, please take care of yourself first.
