Burnout and Days Off

I worked last Friday.

I biked to work last Friday.

I was late picking up most of my student groups. I kept getting stuck. Difficult to move. Difficult to leave my chair. I only wanted to put my head down. I didn’t get lunch until later afternoon. I had to assess several students and then I had to cover a kindergarten class for a teacher who was gone. I didn’t get my usual prep time.

I biked home from work last Friday.

I arrived home and started prepping for my scheduled massage when I realized I didn’t have my wallet. Lost. At school or somewhere on the bike path. Then I lost my keys looking for my wallet.

I worked on Monday. I came home from work and cried and cried.

I’m off now. I ended up taking the rest of the week. And I feel horrible about it.

Burnout is a real disease, just like anything else. What’s the difference between me taking a week because my brain needs healing and someone recovering from a surgery? Or a sinus infection? Or COVID (which requires just as long even if there are no symptoms)?

But burnout feels different. Burnout feels like my own fault. Why can’t I tough it out like everyone else? Do I think my job is so much harder than theirs? Classroom teachers don’t get this luxury. They can’t just stay home and cancel their groups. They have to worry about sub plans and not falling behind in curriculum.

And yet… we have sick days. We are all allocated sick days. Classroom teachers can choose to take time off just like I can. And it isn’t their fault that the system is built on guilt and peer pressure. Specifically designed so that if you take time off, your colleagues will have to work extra. So don’t take time unless it’s absolutely necessary.

Absolutely necessary. Meaning… unless you physically can’t stand, you’d better be in and working?

What about if you just lost your wallet and keys? If you are physically exhausted before and after work? If it’s hard to do your duties because of mental and physical exhaustion during the day? What if you spend your afternoon crying? Can’t tolerate noise – even the radio while driving? Feel resentment toward your friends and your family and only want to sit in an empty room on the weekends? What if you currently have a caseload five times larger than it was three years ago, which increases every few weeks with no cap?

I believe we should all get what we need. I believe this Human Giver Syndrome is a horrible system that runs people into the ground. I believe the answer is in us all taking care of each other, celebrating each other, and believing one another. Not in comparing workloads with a race to the bottom.

Taking a week off is really not a big deal. It’s not shameful. Why do I feel like it’s a personal reflection on me? That it demonstrates an inability to perform my job? Because this is true! It absolutely demonstrates an inability to perform my job, which is not at all my fault! It’s the fact that my job is currently unmanageable and continues to grow!

When I tell my coworkers I’m taking time off, they are dramatic.

“I’m so sorry! Is there anything I can do for you?? Take as much as you need! Don’t worry about us at school. Your students are resilient.”

Or hesitant. “Maybe don’t take the whole week. Take it day by day. See if you can come back. Then make plans so this doesn’t happen again.” Code for Force yourself to get by. Why didn’t you start three weeks ago to make changes to make it more manageable? Why did you let it get so bad?

Why did I let it get so bad?

Again, a misnomer. Why did I enroll 16 new students in the past three months? Why did I bring in 4 more just this week? Why did I leave classroom teachers feeling overwhelmed and under resourced? Why did I do any of this? Well golly. I stopped enrolling new students… wait, I don’t enroll students. And when you ask me whether I can take on 4 more, 5 more, 16 more… wait. No one asks me. Why did I let it get this bad? Seems that I had nothing to do with it. And therefore I am not responsible for cleaning it all up, caring for each family and student, supporting all the teachers while I am out recovering from complete burnout. Seems these are natural consequences of someone’s choices. But not mine.

Let me tell you the things I have done. I’m happy to put together that list and it’s far more useful to everyone.

While other teachers are having “soft landing” time and prepping for their day, I check in with as many students as I can. I practice letter names and sounds with a few who are lacking literacy skills. I put together math packets for students who aren’t yet at grade level. I cut my prep time short so I can step in during math time, even though my job is teaching oral English language. I print out visual aids and share Google presentations with classroom teachers so their students can participate. I created a professional development class and offered four hours of practice specific to teaching newcomers in the classroom. No one signed up for the class. So when they come to me saying they don’t know what to do with their students, well, that’s not because I haven’t done my job.

I tell my therapist I’m taking two days off. And she says 7-10 is the recommended amount.

“You have 54 sick days. They are yours. You have earned them and they belong to you. Take them.”

I breath.

I still feel shame. I don’t push it away. I allow it. Because the shame is part of the burnout. It’s part of what needs to be healed.

It’s the road to allowing all parts of ourselves – our abilities and strengths along with our limits and exhaustion.