Once upon a time in the land of Academia, a young, starry-eyed idealist named Miss Sunshine walked into her very first classroom, armed with laminated seating charts, a Pinterest-perfect lesson plan, and the unshakable belief that she was about to change lives.
Ah, how sweet. How naive.
Day one: she greeted her students with enthusiasm. Day two: she learned how to dodge flying projectiles. By the end of week one, she had received a five-paragraph email from a parent—formatted like a formal dissertation—explaining why her grading was a personal attack on their child’s self-esteem.
But fear not! Miss Sunshine sought refuge in her teaching improvement team, those wise sages meant to support and guide. And, of course, they were deeply concerned… about whether her learning objectives were written in the correct font size.
Meanwhile, her colleagues—seasoned warriors of the classroom—watched from a safe distance, sipping coffee as black as their souls. “She’ll figure it out,” they murmured, swapping battle stories of confiscated vape pens, TikTok-inspired pranks, and the dreaded email that begins with, “As a taxpayer…”
The months passed. She realised that her master’s degree had not prepared her for the fine art of breaking up a hallway fight while simultaneously drafting a 40-page student progress report. The dream was dying.
The final blow? Data. Sweet, relentless, never-satisfied data. Despite the fact that her students were transient, hungry, sleep-deprived, or simply prioritizing their career as aspiring influencers over algebra, she was, somehow, entirely responsible for their test scores.
By the end of the year, Miss Sunshine stood in the parking lot, clutching her resignation letter with the same trembling hands that once held a fresh box of Expo markers. Behind her, the teacher shortage raged on, a self-perpetuating cycle fueled by exhaustion, bureaucracy, and an education system that valued standardized test scores more than human beings.
And so, she walked away, leaving behind the unpaid overtime, the mountains of paperwork, and the moral obligation to shape young minds.
But hey, at least they gave her a free tote bag during the PD day.
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SurvivingFE 
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