YOU may have been teaching for a decade, maybe more.
When someone asks how teaching is going, you give a brittle smile and say, “It’s OK, still surviving.”
You think about it later and realise it is true. While you do not leap out of bed each morning looking forward to teaching, you are, on the whole, content with your job.
Sure, not everything is as you would like it to be, but compared to others you know, you tell yourself it could be worse. So you reassure yourself whenever doubts arise.
Still, every now and then, there is an undefinable feeling that you may have made a wrong turn in your career. It comes suddenly, sometimes after a difficult school incident.
For instance, you have just taught a class of students who have reached Form Five without being able to write a complete sentence or perform basic mathematical operations.
It occurs to you that within the current system, you have been challenged with an almost impossible task: getting them to pass the Sijil Pelajaran Malaysia examinations.
You are told by school leaders that the end target is 100% passes in your subject. You also face parents who believe that if their children fail, it is the teacher’s fault.
You begin to wonder if you are the failure, not the students. You question whether the extra classes, the hours spent on upskilling yourself, the new teaching methods, and the effort to stay relevant were all wasted.
Every now and then, doubt creeps in. Perhaps you are not competent enough. Perhaps the degrees you were proud of and the awards that reflect teaching excellence do not truly define you.
You even wonder if it is too late to change careers. It doesn’t help that you are reminded constantly that those who don’t stay current risk being replaced by artificial intelligence.
Perhaps worst of all is the growing disillusionment with the education system. You are tired of clichés about teaching being a noble profession, or teachers being candles that burn themselves out to light the path of others.
You do not feel noble and as for the candle analogy, the burnout part may be true, but you are not sure you have lit anyone’s path.
And so, like many teachers – even the most committed – self-doubt arises and you begin questioning the meaning of education itself.
Yet even amid the challenges, the burnout and the frustration, you wonder if you are being too harsh. Somewhere beneath the weight of it all, there is still a small spark of hope that refuses to go out.
It is the belief that what you do matters. You are a teacher and whether it feels like it or not, your role is significant – in the lives of your students, in the community and in the nation.
No amount of pessimism or frustration can erase that truth.
Yes, you are given difficult challenges. Yes, not all students appreciate you. Yes, you may be passed over for promotion.
All of this happens, sometimes repeatedly.
But none of it changes the importance of your role. Each day, around a hundred students look to you for learning, guidance and knowledge.
If needed, take time to reflect on the good moments – the reasons you have stayed in this profession. Even small things, like a student’s smile or a cheerful “Selamat pagi, cikgu”.
Speak to your superiors if necessary – your department head or principal. Share how you feel and suggest constructive changes.
The teaching profession has evolved over the years because teachers have spoken up about what is not working.
Most importantly, when doubt arises, remember this: despite everything – or perhaps because of everything – you are in the right place, doing the work you were meant to do.
Every now and then, that belief is what makes it worthwhile.
Dr G. Mallika Vasugi, who currently teaches at a local university, provides insights into the teaching profession. The views expressed here are the writer’s own.
