10 Habits That Make Teaching Harder Than It Needs to Be

I thought I was just being a “good teacher.”

During my first year, I stayed at school until 6:00 p.m. every night. I ate lunch standing up (if at all). I answered emails like a 24/7 help desk. I said yes to every opportunity, even the ones I hated. At one point, I had a student ask if I lived at the school.

Looking back, I wasn’t being dedicated. I was afraid. Afraid to be seen as lazy. Afraid someone might think I wasn’t doing enough. Afraid I’d fail if I didn’t do everything all the time.

The lesson? The habits we told ourselves were just part of paying dues are often the ones burning us out the fastest. Also, isn’t paying our dues showing up and doing the work? Advice is great, but if someone isn’t signing your paychecks or a trusted mentor, don’t take the advice as gospel.

I’m not usually a fan of the saying “every time you point a finger, four more point back at you,” but …

If you’re feeling overwhelmed, isolated or like you’re somehow always behind — it might not be your kids, your admin or your schedule. It might be the habits you’ve picked up trying to prove you care.

Let’s talk about a few of them.

1. Skipping Lunch Isn’t a Sign of Distinction

You’re not more dedicated because you worked through lunch. You’re just hungrier. And crankier.

I used to think grabbing a handful of pretzels between classes counted as lunch. One day I made the mistake of sitting down during 6th period to write some drill changes and almost fell asleep at my desk. I wasn’t tired because the kids were exhausting — I was tired because I hadn’t eaten a real meal since 6:30 a.m. And explaining the imprint of a Snyder’s pretzel on your forehead is a difficult and embarrassing conversation to have.

Fun fact: Your body doesn’t care how noble your reasons are. No food = no energy. No energy = bad decisions. Like agreeing to run a pep band on Saturday again even though you swore last time was the last time.

Now, I eat lunch like it’s my job. Because honestly, it kind of is. Your brain needs fuel. Your patience needs fuel. Your sense of humor definitely needs fuel.

Even if it’s just five minutes alone in your office with a sandwich, it’s better than nothing.

2. Taking Work Home Every Night Isn’t Normal

I used to haul my laptop home every night. I thought if I just stayed ahead of emails, ahead of paperwork, ahead of grading … I’d be ahead.

Plot twist: It never worked.

Instead, I felt bitter. I’d see other people relaxing, going out to dinner, watching TV and think, “must be nice.” Once I had must be nice in my head, I was getting in too far.
Nobody assigned me that work. I assigned it to myself. I could have left it for tomorrow. I could have said, “Good enough for today.” But I didn’t know how.

One rule that helped: I picked one night a week where I’d allow myself to bring something home. Tuesdays, usually, because Mondays were survival mode and Wednesdays already felt like “almost the weekend” in my brain. That simple limit made me more focused during the day because I knew I wasn’t just kicking the can to 9:00 p.m. on my couch.

Most things can wait. Really. Seriously. Just try it.

3. Answering Emails at 10 p.m. Makes Things Worse, Not Better

At some point in my early years of teaching, I convinced myself that fast email replies meant I was being professional. So, I answered emails in the evenings, on weekends, during dinner, even at a wedding reception once. Don’t ever do that, and I won’t admit whether it was my own wedding.

All it did was teach people that I was always available — and then I’d get quietly annoyed when they expected me to be.

I finally stopped doing this when I realized that I was feeling physically anxious every time my phone buzzed after 7:00 p.m. Like, What now? What do they need from me now?

That’s not a great way to live.

Now, I set a cutoff. After 5:00 p.m.? Unless it’s an actual emergency (and 99% of the time it isn’t), it waits until morning.

Side benefit: You sleep better. Your brain learns that it’s allowed to shut down.

4. Comparing Yourself to Everyone Online Is Wrecking Your Confidence

There’s always going to be some school online with fancier uniforms, bigger budgets, flashier shows. There’s always going to be some teacher posting about their 47 superior ratings and their students who practice three hours a day because they want to.

You know what they don’t post? The burnout. The bad days. The emails from admin saying, “Why is Johnny failing math when he’s in your band?”

It took me too long to figure this out: You can be inspired by other programs without letting them make you feel small. The measure of success isn’t what you post on Instagram. It’s whether your kids feel safe, challenged and seen.

And some years, honestly, the win is just getting all the kids to the concert in the right uniform.

5. Believing Exhaustion Is Inevitable Makes You Stay Exhausted

Exhaustion isn’t a personality trait. It’s just exhaustion. “Oh, you’re tired? Yeah, me too. Twelve-hour day. Rehearsal. Paperwork. Didn’t even eat dinner yet.”

Good…for…you? No!

It felt like a weird badge of honor — like I was proving how hard I worked by how miserable and drained I was. At some point, you must come to realize that exhaustion isn’t a requirement of the job.

Sure, some weeks are going to run you ragged. But if every week feels like survival mode, something’s out of balance.

I started asking myself: Is this exhaustion necessary? Or am I creating it by refusing to set limits? Most of the time, it was the latter.

This job isn’t supposed to be about who’s the most exhausted. It’s not about whose group is the biggest or best.

6. Saying Yes to Everything Makes You Reset Everything

It took me three years to learn this: Every “yes” costs something.

Yes to running the talent show? That’s one less night with your family. Yes to chaperoning the dance? That’s energy you won’t have for your own students the next day. Yes to judging solo and ensemble on your only free Saturday? That’s one less day to recover.

At first, I said yes because I thought I was supposed to. That’s how you build good will, right? That’s how to be a team player.

Pretty soon, I noticed I was dreading things I used to enjoy. Even music. Even teaching.

The thing I looked forward to most were silent car rides because that was the only time I had to reset, regroup and recharge.

Something had to change.

You’re allowed to say no. You’re allowed to guard your time like it’s something precious because it is.

7. Refusing Help Doesn’t Make You Stronger

I was terrible at this.

• People would offer: “Want me to cover your study hall so you can prep?” I would smile and say, “No, I’m fine.”
• “You need help loading the truck for the parade?” “No, I’ve got it.”

Half the time I didn’t have it. I wasn’t fine. I was just too stubborn or embarrassed to admit that I needed help.

Ultimately, people want to help. They want to share resources, split duties, trade ideas. Saying yes doesn’t make you weak. It makes you part of a community.

Now when someone offers, I say yes. Not every time, but enough times to remind myself that I don’t have to do this alone. (Unless it’s that one colleague that never stops talking…)

8. Making Everything About the Job Will Leave You With Nothing Else

I didn’t notice how bad things were until I realized that I didn’t have any hobbies anymore. No books for fun. No movies unless I was falling asleep to them. No conversations that didn’t circle back to work. Just family members that said, “all you talk about is band.”

It happens slowly. You skip one hangout because you’re behind on grading. You cancel one weekend because of a contest. Pretty soon, your whole world is music education.

And when school gets stressful — which it will — there’s nowhere else for your brain to go.

Now I have non-music things I protect. Dumb video games. TV shows. Walking the dog. Small stuff that makes me feel like a person, not just a teacher.

9. Thinking It’ll Get Easier “Once You Figure It Out” Keeps You Stuck

You’ll never figure it all out. Not really.

You will get better at managing the chaos. You learn where to cut corners, where to push, where to let go. But the job evolves. The kids change. The expectations shift.

If you’re waiting for some magical year where everything clicks and stays clicked? You’ll be waiting forever.

What helps is building routines that make this version of teaching sustainable. What helps is accepting that some days you’ll still feel behind — and that’s OK.

10. Believing You Have to Do It Alone Is the Fastest Way to Burn Out

Early on, I thought needing support made me less competent. That if I really had what it takes, I wouldn’t need advice or encouragement.

That’s nonsense.

The teachers who last aren’t the ones who tough it out alone. They’re the ones who build networks. Friends who get it. Colleagues who share resources. Mentors who remind you, “This is normal. You’re not failing. It’s just hard right now.”

I have people I text when I’m ready to quit. I have people who make me laugh when nothing else works. I have people who remind me why I started.

Find people who get it. Hang on to them.

The Habits Are Yours to Change

None of these habits make you a “bad teacher.” They make you human, but they also make you tired.

The good news is that you get to choose what you carry forward. You get to build a version of this job that you can actually live with.

Start small. Eat lunch. Answer the email tomorrow. Go home on time.

It adds up. And so do you.