This past week, Kasey and I had the unique privilege of interviewing two powerful guests on the Schurtz & Ties podcast.
One is a teacher in Minnesota wrestling with the real-time fallout of political decisions — where bus stops are met with armed presence and families are unsure whether school is still safe ground. The other was Toby Price — a teacher who found himself at the center of a national legal battle after reading a lighthearted children’s book on Zoom when a guest speaker didn’t show up. No students complained. No parents called. But a superintendent’s fear that someone might complain was enough to end a career.
Two very different stories with one common thread: weight.
Talking with both of them forced me to sit with a question I don’t think we ask often enough . . . Do we truly understand the weight teachers are carrying right now?
The Minnesota teacher described standing at bus stops, knowing anxiety is already present before the first bell rings. Families worried. Students unsure. Political decisions rippling into hallways and classrooms.
And yet — he still has to teach.
Still has to greet kids at the door.
Still has to calm nerves.
Still has to explain and defend that humans are kind, that school is safe, and that learning still matters.
How do you teach when a school - a community - is riddled with fear?
Then there’s Toby’s story.
Whether you agree with the book choice or not isn’t really the point.
The point is this: every teacher knows this feeling, that one small decision, one misinterpreted moment, one clip taken out of context could be the catalyst for something disastrous.
So teachers teach with caution — and courage.
They adjust in real time for the student who didn’t sleep, for the one who is anxious, for the one who is behind. For the one who is ahead and bored. They navigate content, emotion, policy, politics, community expectations, and child development — all before lunch!
And most of it will never be seen.
We talk about teacher burnout, we debate curriculum, and we argue about standards. But we rarely pause to acknowledge the daily courage it takes to lead a classroom right now. In the turmoil. In the unknown. While underpaid.
Teachers are asked to be counselors, protectors, mediators, curriculum designers, behavior specialists, data analysts, and steady adults — often simultaneously.
And yet, every morning, they open the door to their classrooms, greet kids with hugs, smiles, and warmth. They plan, adjust, modify, and support. They endure criticism and shoulder risk. They make hard decisions, stand between students and fear, and cultivate moments of lasting impact. They make a difference. They are the difference.
So before we criticize, before we legislate and ask teachers — yet again — to serve as the battleground for our political decisions or community factions.
Before we reduce education to a headline or a soundbite —
It might be worth pausing to ask: Do we truly understand the weight we are asking teachers to carry?
If we don’t, then let’s spend more time listening. Asking. And attempting to understand.
If we do, then let’s spend more time — and more resources — supporting.
Because teachers shouldn’t be asked to host the politcal battleground. They should be allowed to be what they’ve always been, the steady ground.
Teachers are the courage our children borrow. They are the adults who stand in the gap, and they are the backbone of our communities.
Or at least, they should be.
Do we understand the weight we are asking our teachers to carry?
