Teaching’s always been a job that asks a lot from people. But lately, it’s started asking too much. Not just time, not just energy — but emotional reserves that many teachers simply don’t have left.
We recently talked with the people at Siren Training, a leading provider in Mental Health First Aid, Neurodiversity, and Wellness Workshops. Their work gives them a front-row seat to what’s really going on in schools across the UK. And what they’re seeing is a quiet, growing crisis. Not just stress here and there, not just tough weeks — we’re talking about long-term burnout that’s driving good people out of the profession and leaving those who stay feeling utterly wrung out.
And the worst bit? For many, it’s all happening behind closed doors. Teachers feel they’ve got to push through, smile through, and keep calm in the classroom while inside they’re running on fumes. It’s not just sad. It’s dangerous — not just for educators, but for the students who rely on them every day.
What Is Burnout and Why Is It Hitting Educators So Hard?
Burnout isn’t the same as a long week or a bad term. It’s not just needing a weekend off or a half-term to recharge. It’s deeper and heavier than that. It’s a kind of exhaustion that sits in your bones, a fog that doesn’t lift no matter how early you go to bed or how many cups of tea you have.
For teachers, it often starts with just being tired all the time. Then the spark goes. The lessons start to feel like a script. The joy of connecting with students dims. People describe it as being there physically, but emotionally checked out. Like going through the motions.
It hits educators hard because the job is personal. You’re not moving spreadsheets around or ticking boxes (though there’s far too much of that too). You’re shaping young minds. That’s massive. And with that comes a pressure that can easily tip over into overwhelm — especially when support is thin on the ground and expectations just keep stacking up.
The Mental Health Toll in the Classroom
Here’s the bit no one wants to say out loud — this job is hurting people. Teachers are facing levels of anxiety, depression, and emotional exhaustion that rival healthcare workers and emergency responders. And yet, somehow, we still expect them to be superheroes five days a week.
Some wake up with dread every morning. Others cry in the car park before walking into school. Panic attacks during planning periods, insomnia from worry, constant headaches — these are becoming all too normal.
And it’s not just the teacher who suffers. Students pick up on low energy, short tempers, and emotional detachment. They can tell when their teacher isn’t really there, even if they’re physically in the room. And for young people who already face challenges at home or in their own mental health, that lack of connection can have lasting effects.
What’s worse, many teachers don’t feel safe speaking up. There’s still a quiet stigma around mental health in schools. Worrying that a disclosure might hurt your career or invite judgement keeps a lot of people suffering in silence.
Root Causes: More Than Just a Heavy Workload
People love to say teaching’s a calling, but let’s be honest — calling or not, no one can pour from an empty cup. And the reasons behind this burnout go far beyond a few late nights marking.
The administrative load has ballooned. Paperwork has turned into a full-time job in itself. Teachers are spending more time proving they’ve taught something than actually teaching it. The never-ending cycle of data tracking, lesson observations, and target setting creates pressure that feels more corporate than educational.
Then there’s the lack of resources. Budget cuts have left schools with fewer support staff, outdated materials, and overstretched leadership. You’re expected to be teacher, social worker, parent, and counsellor — all at once, with zero backup.
Behavioural challenges are another piece of the puzzle. Students are coming to school with more complex emotional and mental health needs than ever before. That’s not their fault — but without proper training or support, teachers are often left floundering, trying to manage high-pressure situations on their own.
And let’s not forget the sheer impossibility of switching off. Planning, marking, emails — it all bleeds into evenings and weekends. Teaching starts to feel less like a job and more like a lifestyle, and not in a good way.
Coping Isn’t Enough: What Needs to Change
People love to hand out advice like “just do some yoga” or “have a bubble bath” when someone mentions burnout. But self-care isn’t a cure-all when the system itself is broken. You can’t fix institutional problems with scented candles and breathing exercises.
What’s really needed is change from the top. Schools and leadership teams need to take teacher wellbeing seriously — not just as a tick-box item but as a real, urgent priority. That means proper mental health support available in every school. Not once a year. Not only after a crisis. But built into the culture.
It means adjusting expectations so that teachers can focus on what matters — the kids — instead of drowning in admin. It means funding schools well enough that they can actually afford support staff, updated materials, and meaningful training.
Organisations like Siren Training are making a difference by giving staff the tools to support each other’s mental health in real, practical ways. Their Mental Health First Aid courses are helping to build awareness and resilience across teams, while their neurodiversity and wellness workshops open up much-needed conversations in schools that are too often brushed under the carpet.
This is the kind of approach we need more of. Honest, informed, human.
Moving Forward: A Call to Value the People Behind the Profession
There’s a tendency to romanticise teachers. We talk about how inspiring they are, how they go the extra mile, how they change lives. And all of that is true. But it’s not fair to use that admiration as an excuse to ignore their suffering.
Teachers are not robots. They’re not miracle workers. They’re people — tired, stressed, passionate, fed up, hopeful, frustrated people. And right now, they need help.
Valuing teachers isn’t just about pay (though let’s be real, that matters). It’s about making schools places where adults can thrive, not just survive. Places where asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness, but of strength. Where mental health is taken as seriously as exam results.
We’ve got to start seeing the wellbeing of educators as a cornerstone of a healthy education system — not a bonus, not a luxury, but the foundation everything else is built on.
Let’s stop pretending resilience means carrying on when everything hurts. Real resilience is knowing when something has to change, and having the courage to make it happen. And that change? It’s long overdue.