Occasionally, the people we pass in the hall each day are carrying the heaviest—and often most inspiring—stories. Teaching is more than a job; it’s a daily grind of heart, patience, exhaustion, and hope.
For this post, I sat down with a good friend and classroom veteran. I asked him to forgo the polished responses and just be real. This isn’t a press release or a highlight reel. This is the unseen side of teaching—the parts left out of report cards, school websites, and newsletters. It’s the weight, the breakthroughs, the burnout, and the beauty. It’s real. It’s raw. It’s regular.
Q1. “So, what drew you to teaching in the first place? Was there a calling? Or did you kinda just fall into it?”
A1. “At first, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to teach. I almost went into graphic design. But in high school I joined this program where I taught a group of second graders. When I saw them actually understand what I was trying to teach—that’s when I knew teaching was for me.”
Q2. “Walk me through a day in your classroom. Is there something people on the outside would never believe unless they saw it with their own eyes?”
A2. “I usually get to school two hours before it starts just to catch up or finish what I didn’t the day before. I wait for the kids to arrive, greet them with a ‘what’s up’ or ‘good morning.’ Honestly, they usually come in like zombies—they never really want to be there. From there, it’s a structured lesson plan, business as usual.
What people don’t realize is that beyond the teaching, the state puts a ton of pressure on us. There’s so much data, paperwork, and reporting to do. It’s not easy, and it adds a whole new layer of stress.”
Q3. “I know it can’t be all sunshine and rainbows. What’s been one of those days that made you think, ‘Man, I don’t know if I can keep doing this’?”
A3. “It’s not the kids—it’s the fear of not meeting the expectations of parents, the administration, the board, or even the state.”
Q4. “Flip side. Tell me about a moment that reminded you why you’re still here.”
A4. “Last year, I had a student transfer from out of state. He had really struggled at his old school. By the end of the year, his parents told me I had given him his confidence back—that he was doing better and believing in himself again. That’s the stuff that makes it worth it.”
Q5. “How has teaching changed the way you look at kids, parents… even yourself?”
A5. “It’s taught me that not every kid learns the same way, so I’ve had to adapt my teaching style to each student. Parents are different too—they all have their own expectations, and that means I feel pressure to meet every single one. For myself, I wrestle with whether I can ever fully meet all those expectations.”
Q6. “Be real—do you ever carry your students’ struggles home with you?”
A6. “I try not to, but I do. A lot of our students carry trauma, and they share it with us. At night, I’ll lay in bed thinking about what these kids are going through, and it’s hard because there’s only so much I can do.”
Q7. “If there’s one thing parents or community members could understand about teaching, what would it be?”
A7. “We try our best at everything we do, but the pressure from the state makes it hard to actually enjoy teaching anymore.”
Q8. “Has this job affected your mental health? How do you keep yourself grounded?”
A8. “Yes—both good and bad. Good, because you really do get joy out of teaching kids something new. Bad, because if you’re having a rough day or something goes wrong, you really beat yourself up over it. I just remind myself I did the best I could for the day.”
Q9. “What’s one classroom story you’ll carry with you forever?”
A9. “My first year teaching, a student brought French toast sticks in his pocket—no baggie or anything—and traded them for a bag of mini Reese’s cups. That was my first true middle school experience, and I’ll never forget it.”
Q10. “If you weren’t a teacher—if you walked away tomorrow—what part of yourself would feel missing?”
A10. “I’d miss the classroom feel. I’d miss the kids walking in every morning, the chaos, the chance to teach something new and see that light bulb go off when they finally get it.”
Talking with him reminded me that behind every lesson plan, every red-inked paper, every smile or sigh at the end of the day, is a human being carrying more than most of us will ever know. Teachers aren’t just teachers. They’re mentors, counselors, cheerleaders—and sometimes, they stand in the space between a kid’s hope and despair.
I hope this gave you a small look behind the scenes of what it takes to show up in a classroom every single day. If you’re a teacher, I hope you’ll share your story too. And if you’re not, maybe take a moment to thank a teacher who made a difference in your life—or in the life of your child.
Drop a comment with your thoughts, questions, or your own story.
Regular Rob 
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