Now that I’m no longer in the classroom, I find myself looking back with fresh eyes. Teaching gave me so many beautiful memories, but it also opened my eyes to some realities I never expected. One of the biggest surprises was the way teachers often counted their every minute. If a duty fell on a prep period, the first question would be: When do I get my prep payback?
I understood it, still do. Prep time is precious. It’s when we breathe, plan, and catch up on the endless to-do list. But prep payback never came at the “right” time for me. Sometimes it landed right in the middle of a lesson I was excited about, or during one of those rare moments when the whole class was engaged and alive. At those times, I honestly didn’t want to leave.
And to be truthful, sometimes I didn’t leave. If a supply teacher came in who clearly couldn’t manage the class, I often stayed. My students were my responsibility, and it didn’t sit right with me to watch the classroom fall apart. Maybe that’s the Jamaican in me. You see, back home, supply teachers weren’t a thing. If a colleague was absent, we stepped in for one another without counting minutes. I remember entire groups of teachers giving up their Easter holidays to prepare students for CXC exams. That was sacrifice and commitment.
But let me be fair and declare. I’ve worked alongside incredible teachers here in Toronto too. Colleagues who arrived before dawn, stayed long after dismissal, coached sports, led clubs, and tutored for free during lunch breaks. Teachers who left their families to take students, some very challenging ones, on overnight trips. I deeply admire that level of commitment. At the same time, I also saw a lot of frustration and constant complaining. Some teachers seemed stuck in negativity, quick to point out problems but slow to be part of a solution. Teachers who would be part of the planning and never implement a thing. They simply went back to their “same old, same old”. (Old dusty binders and tired handouts).
On Classroom Management
One thing I realized early in my career was that classroom management makes or breaks a teacher. I wasn’t perfect at it, but I worked hard to hold my own. I remember a day when a student misbehaved. I dealt with it directly, and the child looked at me in surprise: “I thought you would call the office. My teacher calls for everything.”
That comment has stayed with me. Students know when you can manage your class and when you can’t. And if they sense you can’t, they lose respect for you. That doesn’t mean I never sent a child to the office. I did, when it was truly necessary. But I tried not to hand over my authority too quickly. Looking back, that balance was one of my strengths, and maybe one of the reasons I earned the respect of colleagues, administrators, parents, and, most importantly, students.
Of course, I had my weaknesses too. I didn’t always get the balance right. Sometimes I worked too hard when I should’ve stepped back. And, maybe some of my students will tell you that I demanded too much from them. I wasn’t perfect, but I cared deeply, and that caring carried me through.
Lessons I Learned Along the Way
If there’s one thing teaching has taught me, it’s that the profession is as much about growth as it is about giving. Here are a few lessons I picked up along the way — ones I think might help other teachers:
Prep time is valuable, but flexibility matters. Sometimes the best thing you can do is stay with your students, even if it means sacrificing a few minutes of personal time. Other times, the right choice is to step away and regroup. Both are okay.
Commitment looks different for everyone. Some teachers give through coaching, others through after-school tutoring, others by showing up every day with consistency and care. Find your lane and give what you can without burning out.
Classroom presence is power. Students respect fairness, (but remember to teach them what fairness really means), consistency, and strength. You don’t have to be the loudest voice in the room, but you do have to be the “most steady”.
Avoid the trap of negativity. Complaints will always be part of teaching. But if all we do is complain, we stop seeing possibilities. Try to balance critique with hope.
Remember why you started. For me, it was always about the students, seeing their growth, their potential, their spark. On the hard days, that reminder helped me keep perspective.
Final Thoughts
I wasn’t a perfect teacher. I had my flaws, my frustrations (with the system, administrations, colleagues, parents, students, even myself), my tired days, and my missteps. But I know this: I gave my students my heart, (sometimes my mouth of course) and that’s why so many of them, along with parents and colleagues, respected me.
Teaching isn’t about counting minutes or chasing prep payback. It’s about shaping lives, and sometimes that requires sacrifice, balance, and a whole lot of heart.
And while I’m no longer in the classroom, I carry those lessons with me still.
A Word to Teachers Still in the Classroom
To those still in the trenches, I see you. I know the pressures, the long nights, the endless paperwork, and the weight of expectations. But I also know the difference you make. Every smile you offer, every lesson you push through, every student you refuse to give up on, it all matters.
Don’t let the complaints drown out your calling. Hold on to the joy, the laughter, the lightbulb moments. Even on the hardest days, remember: you are shaping lives in ways you may never fully see.
Stay strong, stay steady, and never forget that what you’re doing is sacred work. THANK YOU!