The Day My Head Nearly Burst !

There are days in teaching when you feel like an actual professional: calm, purposeful, armed with a whiteboard pen and a plan. Then there are days when you’re fairly sure your head is going to burst like an overfilled balloon, spraying the contents of your brain in every direction. I’m talking about the kind of day where your “to-do list” isn’t really a list at all. It’s a living organism. You tick one thing off and it reproduces, quietly and efficiently, with a sly little laugh. 

We talk a lot about teacher workload, but what we don’t always acknowledge is the unrealistic expectations that teachers live with, all day, every day, along with a smile that says, “Of course! Happy to!” while the internal monologue whispers, “Is it too late to retrain as a marine biologist?” 

Let me walk you through one typical, completely bonkers day and see if it resonates with you… 

7:45am  
Breakfast club  

The day begins with helping to set up breakfast club. Sounds like it should be straightforward, doesn’t it? In reality, it’s about moving around the hall at speed, while simultaneously scanning for allergies, lost jumpers, and placating the child who has just arrived exhibiting an outburst of emotion akin to a thunderstorm. 

Before the first proper sip of tea, three crises have been averted and a missing spoon located. 

8:30am  
Staff briefing  

Next up: staff briefing. A quick meeting, they said. Just a few notices, they said. 

In teaching, “just a few notices” is code for any / all of the following:- introduction of a new reading initiative, a reminder about data protection, a safeguarding update, a change to assembly times, and a request for volunteers for something that will definitely take longer than the time allotted to it. 

Nod, take notes and add five more things to the “to-do list”. 

8:55am  
First five minutes 

Five minutes. This is a mythical time slot in which you are expected to: 

• set up resources 

• check the register 

• greet pupils warmly 

• handle a behaviour issue in the corridor 

• answer a question about lost PE kit 

• Project the persona of a well-rested, fully energised person 

10:30am 
Break time  
Playground duty / phone call 

Break time arrives, and with it, playground duty. You stand outside in all weathers, eyes everywhere, part referee, part counsellor, part detective. 

And then you remember you need to ring a parent. 

So, you do that thing teachers are famous for at the end of playtime – finding a minute that doesn’t really exist. You make the call in a gap between a toilet trip and hot footing it back to the classroom. 

You speak calmly, professionally, kindly. Internally, your brain is frying like an egg on a griddle. 

10:50am 
Practical Maths  
Measuring volume 

Then it’s practical maths and the plan says measuring volume. 

In a small miracle worthy of a national holiday, it was already set up, thanks to your brilliant teaching assistant. You could weep with gratitude but don’t because there isn’t time. A brilliant lesson, genuinely. Hands-on learning. Real-life maths. The kind of thing that makes you remember why you love the job. 

12:05pm 
Lunchtime 
Boyz Aloud and mentoring 

Lunchtime, in this case, is boys’ choir (called Boyz Aloud, because of course it was!) 

There is something deeply joyful about a group of boys singing their hearts out, even if half of them are also trying to beatbox and one is asking, very seriously, how many calories singing burns. Then, straight into a meeting with a student teacher you’re mentoring. Supporting new teachers matters. It’s one of the most important things we do. 

It’s also another hat on a head already wearing too many. 

1:15pm 
Afternoon 
History, music, and class reading 

The afternoon goes by in a blur: history, music, and class read round. 

Each subject deserves thoughtful planning and the kind of classroom presence that says, “I am fully here with you.” 

Most days, teachers do exactly that. Not because it’s easy, but because children deserve it. 

After school 
Twilight until 5:45pm 

Just when your body starts to believe it might be allowed to go home, there’s a twilight after school until 5:45pm. By this point, you’re running on fumes, adrenaline, and the last biscuit from the staffroom tin. 

You drive home thinking about the things you didn’t get to. The emails. The marking. The display that still isn’t finished. The living, breathing “to-do list” is now bigger than ever. 

The punchline  

Here’s the thing -not one part of the day is unnecessary or frivolous. Breakfast club matters. Mentoring matters. Choir matters. Training matters. 

What’s unrealistic is the expectation that all of it can be done, day after day, without cost. The idea that teachers should stretch infinitely and that we can keep adding “just one more thing” without something giving way. 

If you’re a teacher reading this and nodding so hard you’ve nearly pulled a muscle, you’re not failing. The system has asked for too much for as long as I can remember. 

And if you’re not a teacher, but you know one – be gentle with them. Their head might not actually burst… but some days it feels remarkably close. 

Elaine Sutton