Down the road from where I teach there’s a coffee shop run by an ex-colleague, once a very fine English teacher. Tipped for senior leadership, she announced one day that she’d had enough. That was it. She was done.

Greening’s to-do list must start with solving the teacher recruitment crisis Read more

Her announcement was a surprise, but wasn’t shocking. I know teachers from all around the country, and I don’t know a single one who isn’t familiar with the hollow knock of tanks nearing empty, wondering if their own burnout is only a pile of unmarked books away. According to the Education Policy Institute, one in five teachers in England works 60 hours or more – 12 hours above the limit set by the European working-time directive – and they get far less time for professional development.

I’ve taught in all sorts of London schools for nearly 20 years. People ask both how I’ve managed to stick it out, and how I manage to have something of a life outside teaching. For me, the two are intimately connected.

I am something of an anomaly. The EPI says less than half of teachers in England have more than 10 years’ experience, compared to 64% in the 35 other developed countries in the study. Long hours, short careers, demands for constant improvement and limited opportunities to reflect on and absorb good practice, lead its report to a damning conclusion: “This does not suggest a labour market that is likely to work effectively for pupils.” Put simply: overworking teachers is no good for students.

Beginning my career in a comprehensive school abutting a massive council estate in south-west London, I learned this fast, and was forced to think seriously about how I was going to stop myself burning out. The answer was obvious: I needed a steady supply of fuel.

Rather than accept every new demand, I encourage teachers to reflect on whether they have the resources to meet it

Teaching is wonderful, but it is exhausting. It does not generate enough energy to sustain itself. I learned that keeping up other interests – novels, film, writing – kept me energised, and thus kept students engaged too. The equation was simple: they were better served by a teacher with some joie de vivre than by a fed-up zombie who’d stayed in all weekend filling in lesson plans.

Unfortunately, many who go into teaching grew up as highly conscientious children, eager to please. This can mean that their ability to set reasonable professional boundaries on workload is weakened. Three-quarters say that increasing workload is having a serious impact on their physical and mental health. Panic attacks, tears, anxiety and breakdown are sadly too common across the nation’s staff rooms, and as governments demand more and more from schools, I’ve only seen this get worse and worse.

Long hours and low pay: why England’s teachers face burnout Read more

It’s a price I refuse to pay. Rather than accept every new demand, I encourage teachers to be professional and reflect on whether they have the resources to meet it and, if they don’t, calmly request that their manager either take some other task away, extend the deadline or consider whether it really will benefit pupils (as opposed to impress inspectors). Having the courage to own your professional judgment is hugely liberating.

Teaching can also be a lonely profession, and being prepared to seek support early, rather than soldiering on, has helped hugely. I’ve been fortunate to have good mentors, senior figures I’ve been able to talk openly with on a day-to-day basis, rather than running to just as a crisis hits. Nurturing these relationships is vital.

I am honoured to have been called an inspirational teacher, but I’ve fought hard to keep space outside school to remain inspired. I know some accuse me of laziness, but children clamour to be in my classes, my results are very good, and 20 years in, I’m still going strong. That seems to be a model that is healthy for teachers, and that can only be good for pupils too.