I am a teacher. I have worked in public schools for many years, and throughout my career, I have been involved with different schools, teams, and educational projects. I write from my personal experience, knowing that not all situations are the same, but with the need to put words to an experience that has been repeated far too often over the years.
Throughout my career, I've participated in seemingly well-conceived projects: impeccable documents, inclusive discourse, good intentions, modern terminology, and shared objectives. Projects that, on paper, promise guidance, teamwork, and genuine support. But all too often, when the crucial moment arrives, the support is nowhere to be found. Or it's only sporadic or symbolic. And the real burden of day-to-day operations ends up falling, once again, on the same person.
When this happens, the lack of professionalism in the system becomes evident: clear roles, stable support, and teams that truly share responsibility are needed. When these elements are absent, the responsibility always falls on the same people, and this is emotionally and physically exhausting.
I've experienced this situation at different times and in different contexts, and always with the same underlying theme: the idea that vocation can compensate for everything. That if you love your job, you'll stick it out. That if you're strong, resourceful, and committed, you'll pull through. And so, without saying it outright, vocation is confused with unlimited availability, and professionalism is diluted.
This is where the system becomes perverse. Vocation, which should be a value, is an excuse. Emotional involvement is demanded where structure is needed, empathy where organization is needed, and resilience where shared responsibility is required. The word vocation It becomes meaningless and ends up replacing what the system should guarantee: conditions, resources and real support.
Furthermore, in many school settings, the priority is maintaining appearances: that the children are happy, that families have no problems, and that daily life seems normal. But the absence of noise doesn't mean everything is working well. It often means that someone is taking on more than their fair share, sacrificing their body, energy, and emotional balance to mask the system's flaws. When a project only functions thanks to the excessive involvement of a few professionals, the problem isn't individual; it's structural.
I'm not writing this out of complaint or gratuitous disillusionment. I'm writing from the clarity that experience brings. Putting words to what isn't working is also a way of caring for children, since caring for children inevitably involves caring for the people who are with them every day. A school that aspires to be inclusive cannot rely on the silent exhaustion of some individuals.
I don't want to be a hero. I don't want to bear with my body what a well-thought-out, caring, and shared responsibility system should be supporting. I want to do my job well, rigorously, inclusively, and humanely, but without having to break myself inside just to make it seem like everything is alright.
