SELF
I hit snooze on my alarm at 5:30 am. Four hours of sleep. My eyelids felt like bricks as I wondered how in the world I’d be able to teach prepositional phrases to six seventh grade English classes that day.
I had spent the afternoon before at the hospital with my dad and then caught the last few innings of my son’s baseball game. I had watched from my car and found myself dozing off in the seventh inning of the away game before making the long drive home. A long day of teaching middle schoolers left me with far less energy than I’d like to admit for the rest of the all-too-important things in my life.
Upon arriving home around 10 p.m. there were still a few household tasks to complete to make my house livable. By the time my head hit the pillow, it was close to midnight, which is often when my mind decides to run a half marathon for fun; I finally dozed off around one.
So here I lay this morning, wanting to call in sick, but talking myself out of it.
“My classes will be a day behind.”
“It will be more work to find a last-minute substitute teacher and then have to play catch-up.”
“I really don’t need to use my sick days. What if something else comes up?!”
“I’ll be fine. I just need to suck it up.”
The list of reasons not to call in ran through my head as I begrudgingly got up; but then, I remembered something my principal once told me my first year of teaching that’s always stuck with me:
“Sick days are for your mental health, too. Never forget that.”
I could hear him sincerely saying those words to me as he sat across the desk in his office. It had always set the tone for how I thought of his character as my boss. This wasn’t the first time his words had made me stop, mid-list, and change my mind.
I washed my face and stared in the mirror at the bags under two eyes covered in yesterday’s makeup I’d forgotten to wash off. I picked up my phone, opened my school’s app, and scrolled through the list of available subs.
As teachers, we are no strangers to the rush, the chaos, the daily juggling act; but it isn’t easy to juggle so many balls at once. As we juggle, they start to fall, one by one. Oftentimes, it’s my mental and physical health I let fall to the ground and shatter. It’s for the benefit of my students and my family, I tell myself, as I carefully keep those two balls afloat. Who knew I’d become quite good at juggling? That’s what happens when you’re handed your own circus.
The toughest part about teaching that we don’t talk about enough is that it leaves very little capacity for our personal lives. We are absolutely spent when we leave the classroom, and then we still have to try and function well enough to be great, or at least good, in our personal roles.
As a teacher, things like raising kids, spending time with family, or caring for loved ones can sometimes feel impossible. Honestly, even cooking meals, keeping a clean(ish) house, or exercising can feel so out of reach at times.
The truth is, just being burned out from teaching alone is stressful enough, without all the outside stuff. Add in a personal crisis? A bad day? Try walking into a room with 30 eyes staring at you, clinging to your every word and move. This isn’t the kind of job you want to halfheartedly walk into.
From one teacher to another, take the sick day. Take the mental health day.
I know it feels like you’re creating more work. I know you will question whether it’s worth it. And I know you will feel a twinge of guilt, or worry if you’re creating more work for your colleagues; that’s not your fault anyways. Teaching is your job, not your life, and sick days are something you’ve earned, when you should’ve never had to.
I wish every teacher could sit across from their principal, like me, and be given permission to take the day; but I know that this is not the case. I also know that you don’t need permission. And If you do? Here’s me giving it to you.
Take the sick day, even if you’re not “sick.”
Mental health is physical health too.
