{"id":26372,"date":"2026-03-24T05:00:00","date_gmt":"2026-03-24T12:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.nwea.org\/blog\/?p=26372"},"modified":"2026-03-23T09:46:48","modified_gmt":"2026-03-23T16:46:48","slug":"a-journey-to-recapture-the-joy-of-teaching","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.nwea.org\/blog\/2026\/a-journey-to-recapture-the-joy-of-teaching\/","title":{"rendered":"A journey to recapture the joy of teaching"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"Like so many educators, I love teaching. I say that with a conviction that sits deep in my heart. I truly believe this is what I was meant to do.<\/p>\n

I loved the idea of being a teacher from a young age. I would play pretend school with a huge whiteboard and my stuffed animals in my bedroom. When I was in high school, I got to do a field placement in a second-grade classroom and had the chance to help young learners for the first time. Creating positive relationships and helping the students in their learning was even better than I ever imagined. From there, experience after experience deepened my love for the work.<\/p>\n

There is nothing more fulfilling than being able to support children in their social, emotional, and academic development. How lucky am I that I get to make a difference in the lives of others? I know what it feels like to live out my dream each day. But I also know what it feels like when that conviction starts to flicker. In the complex landscape of modern education, I did something I never thought possible: I lost my joy.<\/p>\n

The leap to third grade<\/h2>\n

The shift began in 2022. I was finishing my fifth year and felt a restlessness. I was hungry for a change. I loved teaching second grade, but I felt ready to try something new.<\/p>\n

I decided to loop with my second graders into third grade. My special education co-teacher and I had worked tirelessly to build a community for a group with diverse, widespread needs. Post COVID, it felt like the perfect plan: keep the momentum, tackle a new grade, and stay with the \u201cwork family\u201d I knew.<\/p>\n

Little did I know, I was about to lose my compass. What followed was a three-year journey of trying to find my way back to the teacher I used to be\u2014to recapture the joy of teaching.<\/p>\n

Losing my way<\/h2>\n

While I loved my students, third grade felt like being a first-year teacher all over again.<\/p>\n

The jump in rigor is as intense as they say, and I quickly felt like a fish out of water. The level up in third grade has students shift from learning to read, to reading to learn\u2014a shift many of our students were not fully equipped for. The pacing of third-grade curriculum also moved rapidly. Whenever it felt like we were getting into a good rhythm with a concept, it was time to move on. It felt like I had no time to craft the memorable learning experiences that brought my kids (and me) joy.<\/p>\n

On top of all that, I found myself stuck in a cycle of comparison, mourning my \u201csweet second graders\u201d while struggling with the complex social dynamics of the upper primary years. Yes, third graders have phones nowadays and, yes, interpersonal drama can be way more intense because of them. My students seemed to suddenly become much more socially aware. They seemed to care more about what their friends thought than about doing their best for themselves. Gone were the good morning hugs and here to stay were the quick head nods and fist bumps. Third grade didn\u2019t feel like my niche.<\/p>\n

To add to the pressure, I started grad school that same year. Anyone who has balanced a classroom with their own graduate studies knows the exhaustion. I was pushing myself past my limits, coming home to long philosophy readings when my brain felt at capacity. Then, the final blow: my support system evaporated as close work friends and my co-teacher left my school for other opportunities. Suddenly, I was doing some of the hardest work of my life without many of \u201cmy people\u201d in the building.<\/p>\n

The breaking point<\/h2>\n

The following two years, I was just going through the motions: Show up to work. Greet students. Teach. Manage drama. Add more to my to-do list. Repeat.<\/p>\n

I was surrounded by amazing coworkers and incredible kids, but I was still missing that deep love for the work. I was physically there, but the heart part of my teaching felt like it was on mute. My joy of teaching hadn\u2019t just faded; it had fizzled out. I was spiraling into questions that kept me up at night: Am I a bad teacher? Why don\u2019t I feel like myself? Is this what burnout looks like?<\/p>\n

I did my best to take good care of myself so I could show up more fully for my students. I asked to move back to a lower grade at my school. Unfortunately, there wasn\u2019t an opening for the following year. Then one evening, in a panic-driven spiral, I reached out to a principal who was opening a new school in my county. It was going to be the county\u2019s first and only pre-K to second grade school.<\/p>\n

Feeling seen\u2014and scared<\/h2>\n

The principal was kind enough to schedule a video conference with me. Hearing her speak about her vision for the primary school, I just kept thinking, \u201cYes. This is it.\u201d It was like she was reading my mind; everything she believed in was exactly what I had been missing. Her philosophy aligned perfectly with mine. For the first time in years, I felt seen.<\/p>\n

I later interviewed for a position at her school and was offered a spot in second grade. But I felt conflicted. I had never considered switching schools before. I felt a deep loyalty and comfort at my old school, and every time I thought about leaving, it brought me to tears. Then I thought about having a last semester of grad school to complete. Was I just going to make things more difficult for myself if I took this new job? It didn\u2019t feel like the right time to make a change. I ended up deciding to stick it out one more year in third grade (with my amazing team, luckily), in hopes that I would find reprieve the following school year.<\/p>\n

Knowing when to let go<\/h2>\n

During my third year teaching third grade, there were many moments of joy. There were countless lessons that had my class on the edge of their seats and just as many students who brightened my days with laughter. I loved working with my wonderful coworkers, and I was making intentional efforts to make learning memorable for my students. Unfortunately, the moments of joy couldn\u2019t overpower the daily stressors and underlying unhappiness I was still experiencing at my core.<\/p>\n

School morale was low, and troubling student behaviors were at an all-time high. Staff became exhausted from the ever-growing to-do lists that seemed to be a new normal in education. I began experiencing compassion fatigue; difficult behaviors I used to love helping kids manage were draining me of patience and care. Even though I knew I was supported and valued on paper, I didn\u2019t feel it in my classroom. I felt stuck. My heart was breaking because the thing I loved most was feeling like a burden.<\/p>\n

As springtime came during that third year, I felt that restlessness again. I found myself checking job postings daily. Then, one afternoon in late April, it appeared: a job posting at the school I had interviewed at the year before. In that moment, I knew. I realized that staying where I was meant settling for a version of myself that was just surviving\u2014and I knew I couldn\u2019t stay in that cycle anymore if I wanted to get back to the \u201creal\u201d me. So after eight years at my first school, I did the unthinkable: I left.<\/p>\n

Trading fear for joy<\/h2>\n

This time, when the job offer came in, I didn\u2019t feel conflicted or unsure. I remembered the buzzing energy in the hallways when I visited the school for my interview. I remembered how good it felt to talk to a principal who shared the same passion for education I felt deep in my heart. I was giddy with excitement for the future.<\/p>\n

Change can be scary and, a year prior, I let fear win out. But that extra year of searching for the joy of teaching allowed me to find closure in a place that had given me so much. It also allowed me to lean into the change with a determination and a certainty that I didn\u2019t have the year before.<\/p>\n

Today, I am back in second grade. Joy doesn\u2019t just exist here; it spills out of every classroom. I\u2019m collaborating with instructional coaches, trying new teaching practices, and growing again. I am no longer just surviving the day; I am thriving in it.<\/p>\n

My message to you<\/h2>\n

I\u2019m sharing my story for one reason only: if you\u2019ve lost the joy of teaching, I believe you can find it again.<\/p>\n

The path to joy isn\u2019t always linear, and it\u2019s rarely easy. I know teachers who have found happiness by leaving the profession entirely, and others who have simply needed a new role. For me, it took a leap of faith into a new building and a step back to the grade that suits me best.<\/p>\n

If teaching doesn\u2019t feel the same to you as it once did, ask yourself:<\/p>\n