I saw a meme that said, “If you’re feeling bad, just remember this: teachers go to school from age 5 until they retire!”
Honestly, I have so much I can say about this, I don’t even know where to start. Because that meme has way more material hiding inside it than it has any right to.
At first, you laugh. Then you think about it. Then you realize… Holy shit. It’s true.
Teachers start kindergarten at five years old and spend the next 13 years trying to get the hell out of school. They finally graduate. They walk across the stage. Their families cheer. Pictures are taken. Caps are thrown into the air.
Freedom.
Except then they go to college for four more years so they can earn the qualifications necessary to… go right the fuck back to school.
Imagine escaping prison and immediately enrolling in corrections.
They finish college, get their degree, maybe even a teaching credential, and somebody shakes their hand and says: “Congratulations. See you Monday morning at 7:15.”
And that’s it. They never leave. They just switch sides of the desk. And somehow, switching sides makes everything worse. Because now you don’t just have homework. You have everybody’s homework. Remember when you were a kid and forgot to do one assignment?
A teacher forgets to grade 137 assignments and suddenly there are emails. From students. From parents. From administrators. Probably from somebody downtown who has never met the child but is deeply concerned that little Brayden currently has a 72%.
And teachers spend their entire careers telling kids: “Stay in school.” Of course they do. Misery loves company.
Every June, the students walk out screaming: “WE’RE FREE!”
And the teachers are right behind them whispering: “So am I, you little monkeys.”
But they’re not. Because summer vacation for teachers is basically the educational version of being released on parole. You’re technically out, but everybody knows where you live. And eventually August shows up.
Every store suddenly has giant BACK TO SCHOOL! signs everywhere.
Parents see them and think: “Thank God.”
Kids see them and think: “Oh no.”
Teachers see them while standing in Target buying $186 worth of classroom supplies with their own money and think: “Damnit! They found me.”
Then it starts all over again.
Alarm clock.
Traffic.
Attendance.
Lesson plans.
Meetings.
Emails.
More meetings about why there are too many meetings.
Professional development sessions about “maximizing instructional engagement” delivered through a three-hour PowerPoint presentation by someone who hasn’t engaged a room since the Clinton administration.
And somewhere in the middle of all this, a teacher who hasn’t peed since 6:45 that morning is explaining to a fourteen-year-old why, despite his extensive legal research on TikTok, the First Amendment does not guarantee his constitutional right to play Fortnite during algebra.
Then comes lunch.
Forty-five glorious minutes.
Which sounds luxurious until you realize teachers apparently use a completely different system of measuring time.
Five minutes getting students out of the classroom. Seven minutes answering the email marked URGENT because somebody’s kid got a B-minus. Four minutes making copies because the copier was jammed during prep. Three minutes trying to figure out who stole the good stapler.
Six minutes standing in line for the bathroom because apparently the entire faculty has been holding it since first period. Another five minutes listening to a coworker say, “I’m not trying to complain, but…” immediately before complaining with the passion and supporting documentation of a federal prosecutor.
And suddenly that luxurious 45-minute lunch has become fifteen minutes to inhale something over a keyboard while entering grades and wondering whether a handful of almonds and half a Diet Coke technically qualify as a meal.
Then the bell rings. And somehow the kids come back more energetic than when they left. You had fifteen minutes and a granola bar. They apparently spent lunch inhaling sugar.
And tomorrow?
Do it again.
For thirty years.
So really, teachers don’t have careers. They have the longest school attendance record in human history.
They started school at five years old, and the only graduation ceremony that finally gets them out for good is called: RETIREMENT.
And even then, give them six months. They’ll probably come back as a substitute. Because apparently after spending sixty years trying to escape school, some teachers eventually wake up one morning, look around their peaceful house, sip their coffee, and think:
“You know what I miss? Other people’s children.”
At which point I can only conclude that Stockholm syndrome is real.
And apparently it comes with a pension.
There’s more waiting at https://xinkblotz.com.
Telling stories, sharing thoughts, and drinking coffee. A blend of fiction, reflection, and whatever’s brewing—one post at a time.
Stories have always traveled best by word of mouth. If one of these finds a place in your heart, I’d be honored if you’d drop a like or share it with someone else.
© 2026 Mariano Velez ~ InkBlotz Press
Leave a Reply