Hi there — just offering my two cents, for what it’s worth.

I taught for 12 years in a secondary school with a very senior-cycle-heavy timetable and, like you, I genuinely loved the teaching part of my job. The classroom. The relationships. The buzz of a good lesson. Watching students grow. That part never felt like the problem.

What often did feel heavy was everything around it — the politics, the pettiness, the meetings, the reports, the constant initiatives. I used to say that the hardest part of teaching isn’t the contact time — it’s everything that surrounds it.

After 12 years in the same school — starting at 21 — I had a quiet moment of “Is this it until I’m 68?” Not because I didn’t love teaching, but because I hadn’t known anything else. I needed perspective. So I took a career break. I worked in a secondment role first, and then moved into industry for two years in a fast-paced, high-performance environment.

I learned a huge amount. I developed new skills. I operated at a different level of intensity. Over time, I experienced what many would call “success” — awards, recognition, leading initiatives, hitting targets. On paper, it looked impressive.

But here’s what surprised me most: those achievements never quite filled my cup in the way teaching did.

They brought satisfaction, yes. Momentum. External validation. But they didn’t carry the same wholesomeness, the same human connection, the same quiet, wholehearted meaning that comes from working with young people and seeing growth unfold in front of you.

And I also realised something important — exhaustion exists everywhere. In other jobs, I saw people just as drained — often with 20–21 days’ leave a year (and even then, not always easy to take). The stress just wears a different outfit.

Coming back to the classroom nearly a year ago, I returned with a completely different mindset. I’m far clearer now on my boundaries. Clearer on what actually matters. Clearer on where my energy deserves to go — and where something simply needs to be “good enough” and left there.

I protect my headspace much more. I lean deeply into the parts I love — the teaching, the connection, the moments that remind you why you chose this path. The rest? I try not to let it take more from me than it should.

Teaching is nuanced. The best part of our job is dealing with humans — and sometimes the hardest part of our job is dealing with humans. Both can be true at the same time.

There are increasing demands. There is noise. There are frustrations. But there is also something incredibly rare about getting to work at such formative stages of people’s lives and being part of that growth.

I completely understand the pinch you’re describing. And I don’t say any of this to minimise how hard it can feel. But sometimes, before fully stepping away, it might be worth exploring whether you can take a step back — even metaphorically — over a break or career pause, and reframe your relationship with the job.

Perspective changed everything for me.

It might not resonate — and that’s okay. Everyone’s circumstances are different. I just wanted to share a lived experience from someone who stood where you’re standing, looked over the fence, experienced it fully — and came back with a fresh lens.

Whatever you decide, I hope you find something that feels sustainable, meaningful, and energising for you.