A teacher shared this story with me during a recent professional learning day on teacher wellness. She has a student who sometimes bolts from the classroom when things feel too big or too loud. He’s new to school, a little younger than his classmates, and quick to get overstimulated. She understands why he runs, but she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to do next.
-by Dr. Tim Grivois, Executive Director
“I can’t leave the rest of the class,” she told me. “So I call the office. They come when they can, and I know they’re trying. But the next day, someone I’ve never met from the district shows up, asks me to fill out a new kind of data form, and says we’ll need six to eight weeks of data before we can even start a plan.”
“That’s why I signed up for your workshop on self-care.”
“That’s why I signed up for your workshop on self-care.”
How Systems Slow Down What Teachers Already Know
What this story captures is the deep tension between understanding behavior and managing a system. She recognizes that his running isn’t defiance, but a solution to a problem he was having. He’s overstimulated, younger than his peers, and still learning how to navigate a busy classroom. Her understanding reflects what any school leader or family would want their teacher to have: empathy, observation, and insight. Yet, the system around her seems designed to respond procedurally instead of relationally. It values data over dialogue, requiring her to prove what she already knows before offering support. The result is a structure that slows help down instead of speeding it up, even when the teacher’s instincts are already pointing in the right direction.
When Support Becomes Paperwork
Another huge theme of this story is how easily support can turn into paperwork. What begins as her honest and accurate request for support ends in a new form to compete, a new data window to live through, and another set of hurdles to jump. The intention behind these systems is often good. On some level, we must ensure that interventions are data-informed and equitable. But the process itself can become so heavy that it overshadows the purpose and re-creates inequity….but now with 6-8 weeks of data. When “help” means more forms, teachers are sidelined from the solutions, becoming graph-makers instead. More importantly, the student’s immediate, “right now” needs get lost in an arbitrary timeline. It’s a quiet, but powerful reminder that accountability without responsiveness isn’t support. It’s demoralizing.
It’s a quiet, but powerful reminder that accountability without responsiveness isn’t support. It’s demoralizing.
What Self-Care Really Means for Teacher Wellness
Her last line, “That’s why I signed up for your workshop on self-care,” stays with me. It wasn’t about yoga or mindfulness or finding balance after hours. It was a quiet way of saying, I need a system that works. Like so many teachers, school social workers, counselors, and administrators, she doesn’t need more reminders to take care of herself. She needs structural care: fewer barriers, faster help, and a system that trusts her professional judgment. Real teacher wellness doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens when schools build systems that respond with help, not hoops.
Real teacher wellness doesn’t happen in isolation. It happens when schools build systems that respond with help, not hoops.
What Leadership That Cares Can Look Like
I’m thinking a lot right now about that teacher, her student, and the moment she said, ‘That’s why I signed up for your workshop on self-care.’ What she really wanted wasn’t self-care or teacher wellness at all. It was a system that cared back. When schools make that promise real, students stop running, and teachers stop feeling like they have to run just to keep up.
The hopeful part of this story is that change doesn’t have to mean hiring new people or adding new programs. Sometimes, it starts with rethinking how support feels. A quick plan for what happens when a student runs can help teachers know they’re not alone in the moment. We might see systems simplifying data forms so they actually serve teachers, rather than the other way around, can make a real difference. Making sure the person who checks in after an incident is someone who already knows the student turns a procedural step into a human one. And giving a teacher time, whether that means a protected planning block, a shortened duty, or even a hallway conversation that says “I’ve got you,” communicates care far more than another form ever could.
When leaders respond to teachers with trust and empathy, they set the tone for how everyone in the building treats one another. Real wellness doesn’t come from reminding teachers to take care of themselves. It comes from building systems that take care of teachers, so teachers can take care of kids.
If this piece resonates with you, you might enjoy my conversation with Joshua Stamper on the Aspire to Lead Podcast. We talked about what it looks like when schools build systems that care back and how leaders can turn behavior support into a promise they can keep.