Why I Decided to Leave the Teaching Profession
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Teaching has always been a challenging role, and for the first time in nine years, I will not be returning to the classroom this fall. I made the decision to leave at the end of the previous school year. Although I had envisioned teaching as my lifelong career, recent policy changes—despite their good intentions—have turned much of my teaching into mere task management, which has diminished my passion for education.
While it is well-documented that the Covid-19 pandemic adversely impacted students, there was a period when hope prevailed. Many educators, myself included, viewed the pandemic as an opportunity to fundamentally rethink educational practices, believing that eventually, things would revert to “normal.” The 2020-2021 academic year brought with it low expectations. With only partial school reopenings, it was clear that the environment was altered. Behavioral issues surged, attendance plummeted, and younger students displayed regressions in behavior. The need for constant reminders about mask-wearing became commonplace, and many students returned grappling with anxiety and depression. I vividly recall a moment during the 2021-22 school year when our school social worker struggled to find an available psychiatric bed for a suicidal student in New York City. Despite the challenges, there was still hope for improvement.
However, over the past year, I have come to believe that the situation has changed for the worse.
Policies have created a cycle that perpetuates dullness in the classroom. Schools have long relied on incentives and penalties, such as grades and attendance requirements, to motivate students to complete assignments that might otherwise seem trivial. During the pandemic, many students faced obstacles like limited internet access, caring for siblings, and the emotional toll of losing loved ones, which understandably prioritized their well-being over schoolwork. Consequently, schools promoted students en masse, regardless of their assignment completion or attendance records.
Once schools reopened, policymakers had an opportunity to transform classrooms into spaces that fostered compassion and intrinsic motivation, using the isolation and disengagement that many students experienced as a catalyst for change. Instead, schools reverted to outdated practices, neither enhancing the educational experience nor reinstating the incentives that previously motivated students.
During the period of school closures, many institutions adapted by creating asynchronous work for students who struggled to attend online classes. Unfortunately, this approach has persisted post-reopening. With ongoing concerns about Covid-19 and possible school closures, schools have continued to prioritize independent work, whether labeled “individualized learning,” “independent learning,” “blended learning,” or “asynchronous learning.” However, this often translates into worksheets or Google Docs. With relaxed attendance policies and no deadlines, the nature of independent work tends to be less engaging and less stimulating. As a result, schools—particularly those grappling with attendance issues—have become increasingly monotonous. The design of the current education system has rendered classroom attendance virtually unnecessary for completing assignments, leading students to perceive class attendance as pointless, even when striving for good grades.
While these policies are well-meaning, they exacerbate chronic absenteeism, disproportionately affecting low-income students. In New York City, for example, 45% of low-income students are chronically absent—a figure that has surged since the onset of the pandemic, mirroring national trends. Schools with significant numbers of chronically absent students often resort to more independent work, creating a self-perpetuating cycle: as class attendance feels increasingly futile, fewer students show up, prompting schools to implement policies that further devalue in-class participation.
In essence, while wealthier students receive instruction reminiscent of pre-pandemic methods, low-income students are often relegated to monotonous worksheets and Google Docs, which ultimately diminishes their engagement and curiosity. Although this could lead to higher graduation rates, it stifles genuine learning.
A Lack of Structure Is Doing More Harm Than Good
Prior to the pandemic, I typically offered extensions for major assignments, provided students communicated with me in advance. Those who missed deadlines without prior notice were still permitted to submit their work, but only after we devised a plan for timely future submissions. This approach served both practical and educational purposes, teaching students to communicate their needs while fostering trust and enhancing their executive functioning skills. As a teacher managing 120 essays, grading batches was far more efficient than processing a slow trickle of late submissions over months.
However, remote learning led many schools to eliminate assignment deadlines. While some critics argue that it’s better for students to submit late work than none at all, I believe deadlines can provide essential structure for students still developing their executive functioning skills.
The combination of lax attendance, absence of deadlines, and the pressure to pass all students has transformed my role over the past two years into that of a taskmaster. Rather than engaging students in meaningful learning experiences, I found myself chasing down students who hadn’t attended class in weeks, urging them to submit three assignments before the grading period concluded to ensure they passed. At various schools, I encountered immense pressure to graduate all students—an outcome driven by administrative policies that prioritize four-year graduation rates. This has resulted in passing students who attended fewer than ten days of school, 12th graders who were functionally illiterate, and students who had yet to acquire English proficiency after four years of high school.
While these cases are extreme, more typical scenarios involved students submitting essays weeks late, which hindered my ability to provide timely feedback and engage in meaningful discussions that could enhance their writing. Because many students were turning in major assignments long after their due dates, collaboration and the ability to build on previous work became nearly impossible. One parent articulated this concern to Slate, stating:
> “But of course, it all just piles up for the end of the marking period when he turns in a bunch of half-assed work. His test grades usually don’t rise above mediocrity because in his head, he can always try again later. He did not have these habits at all in middle school before these policies were implemented, so I feel fairly confident that these habits are mostly a result of the policy changes.”
Effective learning relies on iteration and the building of assignments upon one another; however, with sporadic attendance and no deadlines, this process simply does not occur. The joy I once experienced when witnessing students improve in reading and writing, or when they made connections across different subjects, has been extinguished due to the lack of structure. This absence of structure is detrimental to students as well.
Student Misbehavior Is Not Being Addressed
Misbehavior in students often signals unmet needs. While there are certainly extreme incidents, such as physical fights or substance use in class, a more common form of misbehavior manifests as complete disengagement—students glued to their phones, skipping classes, leaving school during the day, or exhibiting hostility towards teachers. This reflects a broader mental health crisis among students. Given the increasing irrelevance of schoolwork, along with heightened isolation and trauma, it’s understandable that students might disengage entirely.
Historically, schools have addressed misbehavior through a system of punishments and rewards. However, under the guise of restorative practices, many schools have begun to overlook this misbehavior.
Rather than recognizing the increased disengagement and misbehavior as indicators of deep-rooted issues, schools are enabling such behavior. We are failing to encourage students to develop self-regulation; instead, we accept their lack of it as an unchangeable reality, neglecting to foster their personal growth. What is occurring is neither kind nor equitable—we are failing our students.
What Will Next School Year Look Like?
I anticipate that the upcoming school year will be even more challenging. As this past year progressed, student disengagement, non-attendance, and monotonous assignments culminated with the rise of ChatGPT. Students, devoid of deadlines, began submitting all their work at the end of the marking period. Meanwhile, the lack of class attendance allowed cheating to flourish, and ChatGPT has made it even easier. Due to the pressures facing schools and teachers, many students submitting poor-quality or clearly AI-generated work were still promoted to the next grade, signaling to them that their efforts were acceptable and preventing them from acquiring the necessary skills for advancement. Additionally, it becomes increasingly difficult to identify cheating when all assignments are submitted at once, resulting in hundreds of late submissions and less time for thorough grading.
The pandemic presented an opportunity to reassess the purpose of education. Instead, we have leaned into its least favorable aspects, rendering the work less meaningful, more individualized, and disconnected from any sense of community. Students have logically responded to this alienation by further disengaging and avoiding attendance, exacerbating the ongoing mental health crisis. Meanwhile, schools continue to promote students as if everything is fine, simply because graduation rates remain stable.
I hold out hope that one day I can return to the classroom, a place I once cherished. However, policymakers have created an environment where joy in teaching is virtually nonexistent, relegating me to the role of a taskmaster instead of a teacher. Faced with student suffering, we have collectively opted to allow students to disengage from public life rather than provide support or intervention. Given the current state of educational policy in this country and the ongoing debates surrounding teaching, I am left with little optimism that policymakers will address these profound issues.