How Teachers Maintain Boundaries With Admins And Students To Avoid Burnout
The grill smoke stings my eyes as I shift my paper plate of hot dog and potato salad, and Lila wipes a drop of cherry popsicle off her sleeve before she asks. She works in marketing, has never been a full-time classroom teacher, but she’s always asking questions about how schools work, and lately she’s been stuck on one thing. “You deal with admins dumping extra work on you and kids reaching out at all hours, right?” she says. “I struggle so much with setting boundaries at my job, I end up working every weekend just to keep up. How do you do it without letting work destroy you?”
I laugh, because I used to be the worst at this. Ten years ago, my first year teaching, I rented a tiny apartment 15 minutes from the high school, and I spent almost every evening there grading papers or answering student texts. When the assistant principal asked for volunteers to chaperone every home football game, I raised my hand. When a parent emailed at 8pm on a Friday asking to reschedule a conference, I wrote back immediately offering 9am Saturday. By October, I had a bad case of bronchitis that turned into pneumonia, and I ended up missing four days of school. When I came back, my desk was stacked with ungraded papers no one had touched, and I had to re-teach three lessons that the substitute couldn’t access. I sat in my car after school that day and cried, not because I was still tired from being sick, but because I realized I’d done this to myself. No one had asked me to work 12-hour days. I just thought that was what good teachers did.
Now, I’ve built small, concrete rules that work for me, starting with students. I say the rules out loud on the first day of every semester, and write them in plain language on my syllabus: I don’t answer emails or texts after 6pm on weekdays, and I don’t answer any work messages on weekends. If you reach out after 6pm, I’ll get back to you first thing the next school day. If you have an actual emergency that can’t wait, call the main office – they have my emergency contact and can reach me if it matters. That’s it. No exceptions. At first I felt guilty. Once a senior emailed me at 10:30pm on a Saturday, panicking that her college essay, due Monday, wouldn’t upload to the Common App. I left it in my inbox, replied at 7:15am Monday, met her before first period, and we fixed it in 12 minutes. She got into her first choice school, and she never emailed me after 6pm again. I also set fixed extra help hours: only Tuesday and Thursday after school until 3:30pm. I don’t stay late any other days unless it’s a one-time emergency for a student. If someone can’t make my scheduled hours, we find a slot during my free period that works for both of us, no rearranging my own plans.
With admins, it’s trickier, but I have two simple go-to moves that keep me from getting overloaded. I used to just say yes every time someone asked for something. Now, if the request conflicts with something I already have planned or is more than I can take on, I don’t just say no – I offer a small, low-effort alternative that helps without draining me. Last spring, the principal asked me to chaperone an 8th grade overnight trip at the last minute, because the original chaperone had a family emergency. That weekend was my sister’s wedding, I was a bridesmaid, there was no way I could go. I said, “I can’t be there this weekend, but I can stay an hour after school tomorrow and pack all the permission slips and first aid kits for you, that will save you some time.” It took me 45 minutes, and everyone was happy. The second thing I do is if someone asks me to take on a new regular task that takes more than a couple hours a month, I ask to drop something else. Last year, admin asked me to join the new district curriculum committee. I said, “I’m happy to do that, but I need to step down from the holiday dance planning committee – that’s the same amount of time, and I can’t do both.” They agreed immediately. Most admins are stretched too thin too; they just need someone to do the work, they don’t care who does what, as long as it gets done.
Lila nods, and says she always thought boundaries meant you didn’t care about your job. I tell her that’s what I thought too. I thought if I wasn’t available 24/7, I was a bad teacher. But now, when I have my evenings and weekends to myself, to hike, to go to dinner with my partner, to watch bad reality TV, I show up to class sharper. I have patience for the kid who’s having a bad day and won’t stop talking. I can write interesting lesson plans instead of pulling old worksheets because I’m too tired to think. It’s not selfish, it’s just taking care of the thing you use to do the job.
A kid yells from the picnic table that the vanilla ice cream is melting, and Lila goes to grab a cone for her son. I stay leaning against the fence, watching the kids chase each other around the oak tree. It’s not perfect, some weeks I still slip up. Last month I answered a student email on a Sunday while I was waiting for my nephew’s soccer game to end, and by the end of the day I had three more emails to answer, and I wasted half my day off on work. I still feel a little twist of guilt when I say no. But I haven’t ended up in urgent care from work stress in 8 years, and I still look forward to going into class most mornings. That’s enough for me right now.
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