As a child brought up by a church-going Presbyterian, I was taught that to do things for others, whatever the cost to yourself, was the pathway to salvation. More than that, whatever value you have comes from what you do to be useful in the world. That sounds very worthy.  What can be wrong with growing up believing this? I must admit, that this constant nagging in my head to help, to serve, to be useful, overcomes my laziness and fear and forces me to do what I can in the world. I am not the warrior my mother was and is, but I do more because of that voice in my head.

This world view has a dark side, however. It makes relaxing hard to do. Doing nothing seems sinful. I still find watching TV in the middle of the day an almost intolerable decadence. It makes guilt a constant companion. Am I doing enough? Why am I comfortable when others aren’t? The biggest of those negative sides, however, is the toll it takes on the individual giver. The needs of others are never met. Give all you can, and more, and there will still be aching need in the world. It saps your strength, it weakens and tires you. It starts to affect those who you love. You no longer have time for them, for your relationships.  When you are tired and irritable, it is they who bear the brunt of it. When you give your time, you take it from your loved ones and give it to strangers.

You may be wondering why I am writing about this on my blog which deals with literature, reading and teaching. Or perhaps you have already guessed.

My mother, in addition to being a Presbyterian, was also a teacher. She gave her time, energy, thoughts and efforts to her vocation. She happily gave our toys away to the needy children in her class. She took things from home which I missed and used them for the benefit of others. She worked hard and, I really believe, tried her best for some of the poorest children in our area. The idea that you should serve and not count the cost is at the heart of teaching. Those who do it are often drawn to the profession because they long to help others. I think my mother’s Protestant Work Ethic exacerbated the issue, but it seems to me that teaching’s success and downfall lie in that very laudable desire.

The key to the problem is not in the idea of serving others, but in not counting the cost. Teachers are so desperate to help the children they work with that they are willing to practically destroy their own lives to do it. There are many teachers, no doubt, who balance their work and life beautifully. There are lots of teachers who are extremely happy in their profession and do not feel stressed or out of their depth. I am happy to even know one or two of them. It cannot be denied, however, that there are so many others who struggle to find that equilibrium. I think this martyrdom at the core of the profession is a key reason why. Daily on Twitter I read of people who feel they must justify themselves constantly. They have to tell everyone how hard they are working, how much they are doing. They want to claim that teachers have more pressures and harder work than any other profession. It is certainly true that a disproportionate number of teachers end up off work with stress and droves of experienced and newly qualified teachers are leaving the profession in the hope of finding a happier and less intense life in other fields of work.  I am not sure that teachers face more stress or have a heavier workload than other professions do. I think the difference lies in the expectations the teacher-managers have and the teachers have of themselves.

Again and again I read in tweets on my timeline comments which suggest that to count the cost of that dedication is seen as selfish. People who feel burdened with guilt if they are off sick. People who can barely hold it together but carry on to the detriment of their mental and physical health in order to support their Year 11 classes or get Year 6 up to the SATs or whatever it may be. I have an admiration for this attitude as I have for my mother’s daily sacrifice of herself all the years I have known her. But with the admiration comes a degree of irritation. There is an arrogance at the heart of some of this thinking.  The idea that my contribution is so important that without it all is lost, so I must carry on, whatever it takes.

The truth is, in all but the most particular of cases, we are all replaceable. I hope we will be remembered with fondness.  I hope we make a practical, positive difference. I hope we build relationships and change lives for the better. But we are not the only ones who can do it. To ruin ourselves, eking the last drop of our souls out into the ever hungry mouth of that ever present need, is not healthy for us and not necessary for anyone else. However wonderful we are, others can step in. However fantastic our contribution, taking it down 5% or 10% will not cause anyone to fail or stumble, though it may make it possible for us to continue to contribute for many years to come.

I am not a teacher in a school, though I have some understanding of the pressures involved. I understand that much of the stress is imposed from above or from outside the institution.  I know that the impulse to give and keep giving is such a good one. But, ultimately, senior management, the government, our society, will keep on taking from us until we say ‘no’. Until we say, ‘that’s enough! No more’. It is the responsibility of the individual, as well as of the institution and the profession, to look at wellbeing as a serious issue. To stand up to management and say – I can do this much and no more. To try and slough off the guilt and be joyful in grasping the freedom which lies outside of work.

What right have I to comment? None! How you all cope with your difficult, complex and wonderful work is not my business. But as a concerned outsider, I would advise a little self-reflective self-preservation. Just a thought.