Don't let ‘date night’ become ‘data night’

“I've stopped all my hobbies”

A member of staff said this to me once, explaining that they simply didn't have time for them anymore. It was one of those comments that stayed with me. Not because I thought their hobbies were somehow more important than their work, and certainly not because I think teachers shouldn't work hard. It was because I couldn't stop thinking about what we had normalised if giving up everything that exists outside school had become the sensible response to a busy period at work.

More importantly, I kept wondering whether this was really what we wanted for the children they were teaching. Because teaching is a human profession, and I think we sometimes forget that the person we put in front of a class matters just as much as the subject knowledge they bring with them.

The teacher behind the subject

Think about some of the most interesting people you know. Chances are, they have something they are completely fascinated by. It might be running, football, music, photography, cooking, gardening, travelling, history or something wonderfully obscure that you know absolutely nothing about. The thing that makes them interesting isn't necessarily the hobby itself. It is the passion.

People who care deeply about something tend to learn about it. They notice the details. They develop opinions. They become knowledgeable. They ask questions. They become curious. They understand the nuances that someone with only a passing interest would never notice. And that passion has a habit of spilling over into the rest of their lives. It gives them stories to tell, things to talk about and experiences to draw upon. It gives them perspectives they might not otherwise have had. It makes them curious about other things. Most importantly, it gives them something that matters to them beyond their job.

Some of the most interesting people I have worked with in education have been people with completely different passions outside it. The teacher who spends every weekend playing cricket. The teacher who knows absolutely everything about Formula 1. The teacher who is obsessed with live music. The teacher who runs marathons. The teacher who has travelled to places most of us have never heard of. The teacher who can talk for an hour about growing vegetables. I don't think those things make them less committed to teaching. I think they make them more interesting teachers.

Children need more than our subject expertise

A teacher is more than the subject they teach. A history teacher isn't simply a walking history textbook. A science teacher isn't simply someone who knows the periodic table. An English teacher isn't simply someone who can explain a novel. Our pupils spend a significant part of their lives with us. They encounter us as human beings, not simply as curriculum delivery systems. What a shame it would be if the only thing we brought into that relationship was the content of our curriculum.

The teachers I remember most vividly from my own education weren't necessarily the ones who simply knew the most about their subject. They were the ones who seemed to have a genuine enthusiasm for the world around them. They had stories. They had opinions. They were interested in things. You got the sense that there was a whole person behind the lesson. That matters because enthusiasm is contagious. A teacher who is fascinated by something doesn't have to teach that thing for their passion to influence the children in front of them. Their curiosity becomes part of the classroom. Their experiences create connections. Their interests give them things to talk about and perspectives to share.

Children benefit from being around adults who are genuinely interested in things. And perhaps that's one of the most important things we can give them.

Then work gets busy

Of course, there is a problem. We all know what happens when school gets difficult. The deadlines arrive. The workload mounts. Assessment needs completing. Reports need writing. Data needs analysing. Parents need contacting. There is another meeting tomorrow and three things you promised yourself you would finish today are still sitting on your desk. Our natural response is often to work harder. We stay later, come in earlier, work at weekends and cancel the thing we were looking forward to. We tell ourselves we'll get back to the gym next week. We decide that the book can wait. We don't go out because there is too much to do. It feels responsible. When things get tough, we assume that the answer is to double down. But working longer and working better aren't necessarily the same thing.

We've all had the experience of wrestling with a problem for hours, getting nowhere, eventually giving up and going home, only to look at it the following morning and wonder why we had made it so complicated. Sometimes stepping away from a problem gives us the space to return to it with a clearer mind. Rest, distraction and sleep can all give our brains the opportunity to do some of the work that we simply can't force through sheer persistence. That doesn't mean we should never work late or that every deadline can be solved by going for a walk. There are times when the work genuinely needs to be done. But there is a difference between working hard because something matters and automatically sacrificing everything else whenever work becomes difficult. Sometimes the most productive thing you can do is stop.

Don't let date night become data night

This is something I say to trainee teachers quite regularly. When things get busy, don't automatically assume that the answer is to remove everything else from your life. That doesn't mean ignoring your responsibilities. It means recognising that the things you do outside school aren't necessarily competing with your effectiveness as a teacher. Sometimes they are helping to sustain it. Go for the run. Play the guitar. Watch the football. Meet your friends. Go out for dinner. Read the book. Take the dog for a walk. Whatever it is that makes you feel like yourself, don't assume that it becomes less important simply because work has become more demanding.

What are we rewarding?

This is where I think there is a wider question for schools and school leaders. How have we created a professional culture in which someone can tell us they have given up all of their hobbies because they don't have time anymore, and our response can be little more than a sympathetic nod? How have we created working conditions where the person answering emails at 10pm can sometimes be seen as more committed than the person who leaves at 5pm to play football? How have we convinced ourselves that exhaustion is evidence of dedication?

Of course, most schools aren't deliberately doing this. Most leaders aren't sitting in meetings deciding that teachers should sacrifice their evenings. But cultures develop through the behaviours we notice, praise and quietly accept. If being permanently available becomes a badge of commitment, people will understandably start to believe that this is what commitment looks like. I worry about that, not just because it isn't particularly healthy for teachers, but because of what it can mean for the children they teach.

We don't need martyrs in our schools. What we need are teachers who are fresh, enthusiastic and excited to be there, people who are curious about the world and whose interests extend beyond their timetable. Teachers who have stories to tell, experiences to share and passions that have nothing to do with their job bring something valuable into the classroom. That isn't simply a wellbeing issue. It is an educational issue. 

A life worth bringing into the classroom

I think we sometimes talk about work-life balance as though work and life are two competing things, with every hour we spend doing something outside school somehow being an hour we have taken away from our professionalism. I don't think it works like that. The things we do outside work can make us better at work. They can give us energy and perspective. They can make us more creative and more knowledgeable. They can help us solve problems. They can make us more interesting. They can remind us that our identity is bigger than our job. And sometimes, they can simply make us happier. That matters too.

Children don't just need teachers who know their subject. They need teachers who are interested in the world, curious about what is happening around them and enthusiastic about the things that matter to them. They need adults who can bring experiences, passions and stories into the classroom and show them that learning isn't something that only happens between the four walls of a school.

So the next time work feels overwhelming, be careful about the voice in your head that tells you to cancel everything else and work harder. It might be right. Sometimes there genuinely is something that needs to be done. But sometimes the best thing you can do is close the laptop and go and do something you love. Not because the work doesn't matter. Because you matter. And the person who walks through the classroom door tomorrow morning will be better for having lived a little life between now and then.

We don't need teachers who have sacrificed their lives to education. We need teachers who have lived a life worth bringing into the classroom.