If you’re an Australian teacher
- Simon Da Roza
- Jul 8, 2025
- 3 min read
If you’re an Australian teacher, chances are you entered the profession with a deep belief in young people what they could become, how learning could shape their lives, and the power of education to create a fairer, kinder world. You saw potential, not problems. You believed education could be a force for good.
But somewhere along the way, that spark got dimmed. Not extinguished never extinguished but buried beneath behaviour charts, NAPLAN prep, endless compliance checklists, and the constant pressure to prove your worth in a system that rarely values it. The truth is, no matter how much you give, it often feels like it’s never enough.
That isn’t a reflection of your ability or your care. It’s the consequence of a system that was never designed for long-term human flourishing not for children, and certainly not for those who teach them. Most of us were sold a version of schooling that rewards order over curiosity, obedience over courage. And it’s worn so many good people down.
Educators have been made to believe this is just the way it has to be. Narrow curricula. Endless assessments. Bureaucracies that sort rather than support. But that isn’t the truth. It’s just the story we’ve been told. A system built on compliance will always fear creativity, and fear is what keeps it from changing.
Research from Santos and Zan shows clearly that inequality is baked into the foundations of our education system from postcode funding gaps to the public-private divide. These are not unfortunate side effects. They are design features. And while the system keeps promising that more data, more testing, and more pressure will fix what’s broken, anyone who’s spent time in real classrooms knows the metrics are missing the magic.
Teachers have carried the emotional labour of a system in crisis for far too long. Molla and Pham have shown that schools continue to fail many students particularly those from migrant backgrounds or low-income families. You feel that in your bones. But when do you get the time or space to imagine something different? Professional development, more often than not, feels like a thinly veiled attempt to keep the machine running rather than a genuine invitation to rethink the system.
At the centre of it all is a political culture obsessed with short-term wins. Policies designed to win votes, not shape lives. As Melanie Walker reminds us, we need a capabilities approach to education one that nurtures empathy, creativity, justice, and joy. But that kind of thinking requires trust. It requires politicians and systems to get out of the way and let teachers do what they were born to do: grow humans, not manage outputs nor just potential workers and consumers
The quiet tragedy is how many teachers feel alone in this disillusionment. You are not the problem. You are the possibility. That spark is still there. You feel it when a disengaged student suddenly leans in. When a child finds their voice. When a moment of connection cuts through the noise and reminds you,this is why I stayed.
As Lester-Irabinna Rigney has shown in his work on Indigenous education, it’s often those pushed to the edges who can see most clearly what needs to change. And who carry the wisdom to lead it. That wisdom is in our schools. It’s in our communities. It’s in you.
They told us that this is the best we can do. That all we can hope for is slow, cautious reform. But what if that’s the lie? What if something better isn’t just possible but already starting to rise in the hearts of educators everywhere?
“The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.” —Gloria Steinem.
And maybe that’s where we are. Fed up. Worn out. But no longer willing to play along. You are not alone. That feeling that it shouldn’t be this way isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom. It’s the beginning of something new.

You are enough. Your care is enough. And your refusal to settle for less than a humane, just, and visionary education system might just be the spark we need to light the way.

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