Having worked in education for around 15 years, I have worn several hats. I have been a teacher, an assessor and a moderator, and — believe it or not — I have even enjoyed marking at times.
Each role taught me something different, but it was only when I stepped away from teaching that I realised how deeply I missed being in the classroom.
I miss the interaction with teenagers. I miss the banter, the unexpected questions and the camaraderie that develops when you travel alongside learners on their educational journey. Teaching allows you to become part of a young person's story during some of the most formative years of their life. When you are in the thick of it — planning lessons, managing behaviour, meeting deadlines and completing paperwork — it is easy to lose sight of what a privilege that truly is.
Learners enter the classroom trusting that you will teach them something they did not know before. They trust you to explain, guide, encourage and sometimes challenge them. They may not always show that trust in obvious ways, especially when they are teenagers, but it is there.
Teaching can, of course, feel unrewarding at times. Not every learner arrives eager to participate, and not every lesson unfolds as planned. However, there will always be learners who genuinely want to learn and who enjoy coming to school. Those learners deserve our attention and enthusiasm.
And for the learner who does not enjoy school, perhaps the question should be: How can we make their experience a little better?
Learners often spend more of their waking hours at school with their teachers and friends than they do at home with their families. That places teachers in an extraordinarily influential position. A classroom can become a place where a learner feels noticed, safe and capable — or where they discover an interest they never knew they had. A teacher may never fully realise the effect that one encouraging comment or patient explanation can have.
Looking back, I also understand how difficult it can be for teachers to remain focused on this privilege when they are carrying an enormous administrative burden. There are lesson plans, reports, schedules, meetings, assessments, evidence files, emails and an endless stream of forms to complete.
When you know how much paperwork is waiting for you, it is easy to fall into bad habits and bad moods. The administrative demands can begin to overshadow the real priority: being present in the classroom.
That is where the magic of teaching happens. It happens when a discussion takes an unexpected but meaningful turn, when a learner finally understands a difficult concept or when curiosity spreads through the room. Teaching should allow learners and educators to explore ideas together. It should create space for questions and provide opportunities to feed curious minds. Unfortunately, when teachers are overwhelmed by paperwork, these moments can easily be missed.
And then there is the marking.
Oh, the marking.
I could probably write an entire book about some of the answers teachers receive. In fact, a future article may need to be devoted entirely to those unintentionally hilarious responses that brighten an otherwise exhausting marking session.
I have seen teachers organise marking parties, where a group gets together over a weekend and works through piles of scripts. I strongly suspect that a glass of wine occasionally accompanies these gatherings — and, after the hundredth script, who could blame them?
Marking is gruelling. A teacher may have 100 or even 150 examination scripts waiting to be assessed. The work requires concentration, fairness and consistency, often after a full day of teaching. Page after page, answer after answer, it can become soul-destroying.
But every now and then, a learner writes something so unexpected that the teacher has to stop, laugh and perhaps share it with a colleague. For a brief moment, the exhaustion lifts. You may even find yourself wondering whether the learner deserves an extra mark for entertainment value.
Of course, awarding marks for comedy would take us down a dark and dangerous rabbit hole, so we will leave that idea alone.
Despite the paperwork, the pressure and the mountains of marking, teaching remains one of the greatest privileges I have experienced. Stepping away has helped me appreciate the classroom in a way I could not always do while standing in it.
Teachers do far more than deliver content. They build confidence, awaken curiosity and help young people recognise what they might become. If you are a teacher currently caught in the chaos, I hope you can pause occasionally and notice those moments.
One day, they may be the moments you miss most.