How Teachers Maintain Boundaries With Admins and Students to Avoid Burnout
Last Saturday, I stood by my neighbor’s grill swatting mosquitoes while Lila, my college friend who does graphic design for a local toy company, passed me a cold seltzer. Her 10-year-old was over by the fence chasing my golden retriever who’d stolen a hot dog bun, so we had two whole minutes before we had to run intervene. She brought up that she’d been following my casual Instagram updates about teaching, said she’s always been deeply interested in education even though she never went into the field, and then she got quiet and asked the question that’s been stuck in my head all week: “I struggle so bad with setting boundaries at work. How do you do it, with admins asking for things nonstop and kids needing you all the time? How do you keep work from just destroying you?”
I laughed, because three years ago I would’ve given her a different answer. Back then, I would’ve said you don’t, you just get used to being tired all the time. I reminded her of that time I called her crying from my car after school, how I’d forgotten to pick up my daughter’s birthday cake from the bakery because I stayed late to help a senior rewrite their college essay, and then my admin asked me to chaperone the homecoming dance that night anyway, and I said yes. I didn’t even argue. I just thought that’s what being a good teacher is: you give everything, all the time, no exceptions.
It took a trip to my doctor, where she told me my blood pressure was far too high for someone my age, and a small panic attack before fall parent-teacher conferences, for me to realize I couldn’t keep going that way. I started small, with tiny concrete changes that didn’t require a big meeting or a fight with anyone. The first thing I did was delete the work email app from my personal phone. Before that, I was checking it every 10 minutes while I made dinner, while I watched movies with my kids, whenever I had a free second. Now, if someone needs me after 4pm on a weekday or any time on the weekend, they have to wait until the next school day. I set up an auto-reply that tells them exactly that: “I respond to emails between 8am and 4pm on school days. Assignment questions can be answered first thing in class, and the full syllabus is posted on Google Classroom. If this is an emergency, call the main office.”
At first I felt guilty, like I was letting my students down. But after a month, I noticed I wasn’t snapping at my own kids over spilled milk at dinner anymore, and when I was in class, I could actually listen to what kids were saying instead of half thinking about the unread email in my pocket. For students who pull me aside during my 30-minute lunch break, when I’m supposed to be sitting and eating and recharging, I have a simple line I use now. I just say, “I’m taking half an hour to breathe right now, can you catch me at after-school help on Wednesday?” It sounds blunt at first, but I’ve never had a kid get upset about it. Most of them are just as overwhelmed by school and life as I am, and they get it, even if they don’t say it out loud.
Setting boundaries with admins is trickier, because so many school cultures frame extra work as part of being a “team player.” I used to buy into that wholeheartedly. But now I have a script I keep in my head, so I don’t blurt out yes out of guilt before I even think about it. If someone asks me to cover an extra class last minute, take on a new club, or chaperone one more weekend event, I just say, “I can’t take that on right now, my current work already fills all my contracted hours. Can we look at this again next semester?” Pulling in the contracted hours part takes the personal sting out of it. It’s not that I don’t want to help the school, it’s that I’m already doing the job I’m paid to do.
I don’t say no to everything, of course. Last semester, I covered for a 10th grade teacher for two weeks when she went out for emergency surgery. But I made sure I got a stipend for the extra work, and I cut out non-essential tasks that month to keep from drowning. I just had students grade their own daily exit tickets instead of me grading every single one. No one failed, no one complained, it was totally fine.
By the time we finished talking, our kids had dragged the golden retriever back to the patio, covered in grass and barbecue sauce, and we had to go wipe him down. Lila said what I told her sounded almost exactly like the boundary advice she’d been trying to apply to her own design work, she just never thought it could work in teaching, where everyone expects so much more of you. She said she was going to try the auto-reply trick at her job, see how it goes.
I don’t have all the answers. Boundaries aren’t something you set once and they’re done forever. I still slip up sometimes. Two weeks ago, a student texted me at 9pm panicking about a final project, and I answered her, then I was irritable for the rest of the night because I’d let work creep back into my time off. I still say yes to extra stuff sometimes when I shouldn’t, because I want to help a kid or the team really needs it. But the difference now is that I notice when I’m overextending myself, and I can adjust next time. Right now, deleting that email app is still the best thing I ever did for my work and my family. And I’m still figuring out the rest.
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