From Burned Out to Intentional: How I’m Rebuilding My Rhythms as a Teacher
There was a season this year where I came home and cried almost every single day due to burnout.
Not a quiet tear or two.
Full-on, door-closed, sitting-on-the-floor-of-my-classroom crying during prep.
I am not a crier. So that alone should have told me something.
And it didn’t stop when I left the building.
I would sit at the dinner table in tears, barely able to eat. Matt would try to talk to me and I couldn’t even form full thoughts. I wasn’t just “venting.” I was unraveling. My body felt like it had run a marathon and my brain felt completely fried. Some nights I couldn’t even make it through dinner before retreating to the couch or straight to bed because I simply could not function anymore.
I was getting migraines daily. By the time I walked through the door at home, I was completely empty. My chest felt heavy. My head pounded constantly. Everything felt hopeless.
It was brutal to get out of bed in the morning because the day already felt lost before it started.
I didn’t just feel tired.
I felt like I was at the very bottom of my rope.
What Burnout Actually Looked Like
On paper, my plate was full:
- Mentor teacher
- Leadership team
- ELA committee
- County Teacher of the Year work
But that wasn’t really the problem.
The real problem was walking into a brand-new school without systems in place. On top of that, we were expected to implement a new curriculum that I strongly did not feel aligned with — with minimal resources and almost no time to actually learn or prepare it.
My students were already academically behind. The content was above them. I couldn’t even get through lessons most days because behavior was so intense.
Evacuations.
Screaming.
Throwing things.
My classroom being destroyed.
I had heavy hitters with no solid plans in place.
Support was inconsistent. Some days help came quickly. Other days I waited 45 minutes or longer. Sometimes no consequences were given for the same out-of-control behaviors that disrupted everyone’s learning.
And the cycle repeated.
Every. Single. Day.
I was expected to push through curriculum that wasn’t meeting my students’ needs, while barely being able to teach at all.
I wasn’t aligned with the direction of my district. I felt unheard. Unvalidated.
And eventually, I started to feel crazy for feeling that way. This is how I knew I was experiencing burnout.
How It Spilled Into My Life
I was exhausted in every way imaginable — mentally, physically, emotionally.
I had no joy.
I had no patience.
I had nothing left for my husband.
Matt was encouraging me to leave teaching because he could see how much distress I was in. I was constantly in tears. Constantly overwhelmed.
When the people closest to you start gently asking if this is sustainable, that’s a wake-up call.
The Turning Point
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was just… I couldn’t keep going like that.
I took a mental health day.
I started talking about the feelings of burnout I was experiencing — with colleagues, with friends, even a little on social media. I felt sad admitting it. But I also felt validated. I learned that so many other teachers were feeling the exact same feelings of burnout that I was.
I had hard conversations with administration and my grade-level team. When I didn’t feel validated there, I made a quiet decision:
I would keep my head down and do my job — but I would stop carrying what wasn’t mine.
In December, I stepped away from the curriculum for a bit and just had fun with my students. We studied holidays around the world. We made crafts. We connected.
And something shifted.
Then holiday break came — two full weeks. It was a game changer. I felt like myself again. I connected with other teachers in my County Teacher of the Year cohort and had honest, tough conversations. I realized I wasn’t alone.
When I came back in January, I told myself something had to change.
A student teacher started. My class had made tremendous behavioral growth over break, and her arrival shook things up again. But this time, I made a different choice.
I decided I would not hold myself responsible for every outcome.
I would provide tools. I would coach. But I would not absorb everything.
That boundary alone changed everything.
What I’m Rebuilding Instead
I am no longer trying to organize my way out of burnout.
I am rebuilding intentionally.
I get up at 4:45.
That quiet time is sacred. I drink my cleantox tea. I read my Bible. I journal. I sit in stillness before the world asks anything of me.
I joined a gym five minutes from my school and go before the day starts. Not because I’m chasing a body goal — but because I need my mind and nervous system regulated before walking into the building.
I get to school later now. I used to arrive around 7:00. Now I get there at 7:30. I leave at contract time unless I am being paid to stay.
I protect my time outside of school.
I started a book club with women from my church. That small decision turned into real community. Being around women who encourage and challenge me has been life-giving.
I am building a life after 3PM instead of collapsing into one.
What Intentional Means Now
I no longer put in more effort than is reciprocated.
I am learning to leave things imperfect.
I protect my time outside of school.
I let go of the pressure to fix everything.
I am rebuilding by prioritizing boundaries and taking care of myself.
Intentional does not mean I care less.
It means I refuse to destroy myself in order to prove that I care.
Naming the Hard Truth
The system does not support teachers the way it should.
More gets added to our plates. Nothing gets taken off.
Prep time is limited. Resources are limited. Autonomy is shrinking.
Behaviors are increasing. Support is inconsistent.
And teachers are expected to carry it all with a smile.
Something has to give — because teachers cannot teach when they are in survival mode.
If You’re Reading This
This is for the teacher who feels like this job isn’t what she signed up for.
The first-year teacher who is overwhelmed and unsupported.
The veteran teacher who has watched autonomy disappear.
The teacher questioning if it’s worth it.
You are not crazy.
You are not weak.
You are not failing.
You might just be carrying too much.
And you are allowed to rebuild your rhythms in a way that protects you.
You don’t have to burn out to prove you care.
February 18, 2026
Karyn Bigelow
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i’m here to remind teachers that while we pour our hearts into our students, we deserve to pour into ourselves too. from setting healthy boundaries to creating joyful, intentional spaces at home, it’s all about finding balance. whether you’re looking for teaching tips, wellness inspiration, or ways to live more fully, this space is for you.
As someone who saw you at the very beginning of your career, who knows what a powerful, caring teacher you were and have been, this breaks my heart. By the time we met and I mentored you, I was already well on the way to where you ended up this year. It is truly unfortunate that teachers are treated in a way that leads to this. I’m happy you are setting boundaries, but sad that it had to happen that way.
Karyn, I am beyond grateful that you had the courage to write this. Though my position this year was a bit different than teaching, I too did not realize the burnout until it was too late and I had to leave my job. It took me a few weeks to feel normal again and begin putting my own needs, mental and physical, first for a change. It’s still a work in progress but now that the fog has cleared, I know once again that my place is in a classroom. I just wish I had realized the burnout until out sooner and had advocated for my self sooner. Thank you for speaking up even when it was hard. I hope you continue to do so, and I hope you start receiving the supports that you and your students deserve.
Karyn,
I’m so relieved and thankful that you wrote this all down. I struggled with burn out. I even studied it for my capstone project for my Master’s degree. It’s heartbreaking that this career puts us through this. Someone explained it to me this way “education is like the drain filter of society, whatever horrible things are floating around in our society, we feel it, we are forced to deal with it.” Our country, our set of norms is not what it used to be. Today I was at a ski mountain and I literally saw multiple parents begging their kids to give them their attention while they were plugged into an iPad or phone. The parents were literally begging their kids, snacks in hand, like a servant to a master, to acknowledge that they heard them. Kids barely looked away from the device, were irritated to be interrupted from the endless distraction. These are the kids that come to us, emotionally numb, addicted to electronic stimulation, unconnected from the physical world around them. I think parents fee stressed from moving from one activity to the next, including their own work and stress, that they put a device in their hand to catch their breath and the habit grows and becomes how kids live. On their devices.
Besides the struggles we face with our students, I’ve realized that changing schools is essentially changing jobs. And changing jobs is a huge life change, like on the ACES checklist, it is a source of stress. We have new routines, new surroundings, new norms, new administrators, new behavior expectations, new colleagues. We need to acknowledge the stress involved with this change more in my opinion, and work more to build community and connection.
Again, thanks again for voicing all of this. I’m finding that my mindset is changed when I set healthy boundaries with work, when I dig into my personal interests and relationships outside of work. It is so hard, though, because we care so much and because we love the children we are working with. And we know that that takes time and energy. At the very same time, we need to look after ourselves before we can help others. Thankful that you are finding balance and intention. Take care of yourself, friend.