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I am noticing a common theme among teacher influencer platforms. Among the posts featuring Pinterest-decorated classrooms, “Day in the Life” videos, and all-too-familiar “stories from the classroom,” teachers are beginning to discuss how they averted teaching from consuming their identity. This theme started a spiral of anxious, self-deprecating thoughts centering around one question: “Is teaching all that I am?”
It is ironic, however, for teachers on social media to talk about the separation of teaching from other fragments of their identity. In the era of social media, “success” is defined by the number of followers; the path to success depends on the brand development. And with individual “influencers” (ew, I know, I don’t like that word either), their brand is built upon one specific skill, attribute, and, sometimes, a profession. Eventually, that fragment of a content creator’s identity consumes them – it is all they are known for. I mean, Instagram requires a topic or category to appear under the professional account name. A creator becomes tied to that label and must upload content only around that niche to remain relevant and trendy.
And like many business owners and artists, teachers began creating platforms to advocate for their craft. Some focused on crafting professional-but-artsy resources on lesson planning and activities to support other educators: the “Teachers-Pay-Teachers teacher.” Others prefer a Tik Tok style of content, uploading short videos –some with ridiculous but hilarious filters– to share stories from the classroom, bring light and laughter to the teaching community, and rant about “THE SYSTEM!” I’ll call these teachers “The Tik Tok teachers.” And I cannot forget the Pinterest board teachers and “Day in the Life” vlogging teachers. But despite these potential categories, society cannot put teachers in a box. The complex nature of our job and the unique character, skills, and attributes each teacher brings to the table transcends any one brand. Regardless of their content niche, teacher influencers strive to set boundaries coherently and prevent their profession from defining their personhood. This task is challenging, especially in a job that already demands and claims everything “for the kids.” So, I watch videos of teachers leaving after contract hours, designating work to stay at school, and enjoying a “typical” social life with wonder and disbelief. Unfortunately, I realize that this fantastical life will not be my reality in the first chapter of my career. As I prepare to graduate, my final courses attempt to brace me for this rocky chapter. Articles and videos documenting first-year teacher experiences illustrate a juxtaposed reality. First-year teachers are willing to go above and beyond out of excitement and survival. The first few years of teaching are exciting and exhausting, featuring the first classroom decorations and all-night lesson planning. It seems inevitable for teaching to consume me as I take off the training wheels. Allow me to reinquire, “Is teaching all that I am?”. After all, I am one of those “teacher influencers” (cue the shivers). I create content within the categories I previously described; I am mostly the “Teachers-Pay-Teachers teacher,” but I sometimes experiment with the “TikTok (or Instagram reels) teacher” style. But principally, I just speak my truth and make stuff I think other people will use. The reality is that I have built a personal brand around teaching. Social media and my social circles know me as “that future teacher” or “the one with the blog.” And I love teaching – I truly do. Otherwise, this blog and platform would not exist. But I often feel so limited by the content I post. I want to post photos of me having the time of my life on a Saturday night. I want to post book reviews of a murder mystery I recently finished in one day (I love any British mystery taking place in a cottage town where, unsurprisingly, everyone dies). I want to share travel tips, reviews of hiking trails, and funky shots of my plants. I want to fangirl about Gilmore Girls and Taylor Swift. I want to show that I am a person outside of teaching. The tricky thing is: teaching is central to who I am. My character, style, and upbringing align perfectly with the teaching profession. I am gentle, kind, silly, and modest (but still very liberal). I am a nerd; I love to learn and ask questions. I proudly identify as an “orch dork.” I love playing with children and sometimes still act like a five-year-old. And lastly, I am passionate. I could talk about education for HOURS! Just don’t get me started down that rabbit hole. More often than I’d like to admit, social media and the teaching niche lure me in. By nature, social media is consuming. It entices users with attractive advertisements and flashy, superficial photos that scream, “Look at me! I am living my best life, and I want everyone to know it.” Nothing is real online, but comparison, competition, and self-criticism are rampant. Instead of asking myself, “When was the last time I called my best friend?” I question, “Am I posting enough?” or “Do people like my content?”. I worry that this identity consumption will worsen as I transition into my career. College did not teach strategies to set boundaries; I was told, “The first years will be tough. Good luck.” I am concerned that I will get in my own way – that I will prioritize teaching and my students above all else. I committed 110% to my studies and career, but I need to learn to support myself 110%. I don’t want my interests to diminish and fit within only one niche. I want to grow, blossom, and flourish in all realms of my identity. Teaching is just one of my guides to self-reflection and change. Therefore, I need to look beyond the classroom for opportunities and answers. I need to reframe my online brand to reflect my layered humanity. Ok, let me wrap up this soap box and answer the burning question. Teaching is not all that I am, but it could be if I am not careful. While the first few years will challenge the development of my “teacher identity,” this quest must not consume all of my identity. I hope that one day, I will leave my classroom promptly at 3:15 pm and spend my weekends with loved ones rather than with paperwork. . . .We need to start seeing teachers as human beings. Teachers have families, social lives, and interests outside of school. (No, we do not sleep at school – can you believe that?!). The social media pressure on teachers to be content machines adds to their burden of producing engaging, individualized, meaningful lessons every day in the classroom. We must dismantle our monolithic expectations of teachers. And, of course, we need to get paid more.
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AuthorMeghan Hesterman (she/her) is an aspiring educator, storyteller, and traveler. Through regular posts and commentary, she candidly reflects on her evolution as an educator and young adult. Categories
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February 2025
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