Is my body telling me a story? Experimenting with tracking feelings and sensations.

I’m 43 and many years have gone by without me knowing terms like body sensations or negative cognitions. But 2 years ago a friend of mine told me about how his journaling included documenting those two things plus feelings.

Ugh. I hate journaling. And I thought, ‘what the heck does journaling body sensations and negative cognitions look like?' So he explained that he looked at some word banks and copied down the words that applied to him at the moment as he mentally scanned his body, thoughts and feelings.

Here’s an example of what his word banks looked like.

Negative cognitions:

(Resource from VirtualEMDR)

Body sensations:

(Resource from Journeys Counseling)

Feelings:

(Example from Calm.com)

Let me give you a journaling example.

(As I write this blog post, I’m sitting at Dunkin’ Donuts while my daughter is working on some summer course homework. As I’m sitting next to her I will scan my body, thoughts and feelings to give you an example of what the journaling exercise might look like.)

July 5th 3:22pm

Scanning the words on the body sensations word bank, I perceive that I’m currently having these sensations in my body:

• achy, breathless, bruised, clenched, constricted, dense, jittery, knotted, shaky, wobbly, tense

Scanning the words on the feelings wheel, I perceive that I’m currently feeling:

• weak, frightened, worried, inadequate, insignificant, nervous, exposed, let down, humiliated, critical, annoyed, judgmental, hurt, vulnerable, lonely, isolated, fragile, grief, empty, inferior, disappointed, interested, proud, hopeful, creative, free, surprised, disillusioned, eager, stressed, rushed, pressured

Scanning the words on the negative cognitions list, I perceive that I’m currently thinking (usually subconsciously):

• i am defective, i don’t deserve love, i am worthless, i am inadequate, i am not lovable, i am not good enough, i am ugly, i do not deserve, i am insignificant, i am a disappointment, i am different, i don’t belong, i cannot trust my judgement, i am weak, i have to be perfect, i have to please everyone, i should have done something, i did something wrong, i should have known better

Wow. Even though I’ve done that exercise a lot of times now, I’m surprised at how much I’m carrying today without realizing it. (All I’ve done today is sleep in, watch the PSG vs Bayern Munich game at noon, scan the Tour de France day 1 highlights, and take my daughter to dunkin’ donuts.) Whoa. That’s a lot of feelings.

Anyway…the point of this blog post is not what I’m feeling today. The point is that I’ve lived for so long without knowing about this stuff. And it is leading me to some surprising realizations. I’ll share one realization below:

The daily grind of being a teacher at school takes a noticeable toll on my nervous system.

I noticed it for the first time a couple months ago when I had 10 straight days off of school during spring break. I noticed in my body that I was able to experience deeper relaxation and calm knowing that I wasn’t having to go back to school soon. And then I noticed (on the Sunday before returning after spring break) that my ability to access deep relaxation and calm was virtually impossible. I noticed on week nights that I would try to relax but still feel tense because I knew I had to wake up the next day and face school. And the day in and day out experience of that affects my nervous system.

I noticed it for the second time late in June once the school year was done. As the summer started, I noticed that I had the thought, ‘ahhh…I don’t have to go back to school for a long time. I can relax,’ and my nervous system felt relieved.

That’s got me thinking: ‘Is my body (in this case my perception of my nervous system) telling me a story? If so, what does it tell me about my experience at school? Why do I get so tense and clenched during the weeks of daily grind? Why do I experience such a noticeable increase in ability to relax when there are long periods of time away from school?

I’m not sure what the answers are. But I’m trying to learn to explore.

How We Feel: Free App Updates

Holy moly!!! 🎉💕

The HOW WE FEEL app has released updates to include tracking body sensations and seasonal surveys!!!

I’m soooo excited!!

The Weight We Carry: What Pressures Are Teachers Facing Today?

By Rebecca Underwood

Teaching was once a noble craft, anchored in autonomy, care and community. A profession where wisdom was passed from hand to hand, voice to voice and the classroom belonged to the teacher who stood at its helm. But now? Many teachers feel like passengers on someone else’s ship - pulled by tides they didn’t choose, steered by leaders they don’t trust, and drowning in initiatives that dilute their expertise.

So, what pressures do teachers face in today’s system? Let’s name them, honestly.

The erosion of autonomy lies at the heart of it all. Decisions are handed down in glossy folders and ready-made PowerPoints, with little regard for the children in front of us or the teacher who knows them best. Curriculums are pre-packaged and stripped of creativity, turned into scripts with no room for tangents, no space for curiosity, and no trust in the person delivering them. The joy of planning, of crafting something bespoke, responsive, alive, has been replaced by schemes written far from the classroom, yet deemed sacred.

CPD is rarely better. So often, it is directionless, hollow, or built for box-ticking. Sessions are delivered to the many, but useful to the few. It is not professional learning when it lacks purpose. It is not development when it doesn’t spark anything new.

Add to that the weight of endless demands: the unpaid hours spent chasing data, tweaking displays, leading clubs, covering classes, and completing policies, so many tasks that stretch far beyond the school day, creeping into weekends, bleeding into the spaces where joy should be. Teachers are tired. Not because they don’t care, but because they do.

And still, the pressure mounts.

The mental toll of feeling overwhelmed is deep and enduring. If teaching was only about the children, it would still be one of the hardest jobs in the world. But it never only is. There are meetings, interventions, accountability measures, and layers of responsibility added to already impossible days. Teachers live with the constant anxiety of not being enough, the dread of Monday mornings where there should be the quiet joy of returning to their class—the familiar faces, the spark of wonder, the chance to shape another week of discovery and connection. The whispers of “informal support plans” circle staffrooms, haunting even the most experienced. Educators who have spent decades lighting up classrooms are suddenly scrutinized, not for their impact on children, but for their unwillingness to ‘perform’ for leadership.

This is the hardest truth: many of the teachers now being deemed ineffective are the same ones who’ve held schools together for years. They’ve given everything. They’ve weathered change after change, stayed for the children, adapted time and again. Now, some are being pushed out for questioning decisions, for asking “why?”, for daring to speak up.

We are losing our strongest cohort; those who know, feel, and live this work. The ones we should be holding on to with both hands.

And hovering behind much of this pressure is the quiet, unspoken consequence of academisation. What began as a promise of innovation has too often fractured into a hierarchy-heavy system that siphons money upward and strips power away from those on the ground. CEOs of multi-academy trusts now earn more than the Prime Minister, while TAs, vital lifelines for children with SEND, are cut, stretched thin, or simply not replaced. There are too many chiefs, and not enough hands in the classroom. Collaboration across schools, once a strength of the system, has been lost to competitive cultures and fragmented visions. Fads come and go, initiatives are recycled, and staff nod along wearily - we’ve seen this before, and we know how it ends. Teachers are crying out for substance, not spectacle.

Behaviour issues are rising. Parental entitlement is growing. Teachers are expected to do more, with less, and to do it perfectly. Yet no one’s asking why behaviour is slipping. Perhaps it is because children too are suffocating under a curriculum that doesn’t meet their needs- content-heavy, test-driven, stripped of the magic of discovery. There’s little time for imagination, for talking, for joyful chaos. Perhaps children are frustrated because they feel it too: the loss of spark, the burnout in the room, the pressure trickling down from adult to child. Surely there’s a connection here.

When the classroom becomes a place of performance rather than possibility, everyone loses. But when lessons are allowed to breathe, when learning takes unexpected turns, when teachers feel empowered to follow a child's question down a winding path of wonder…..then magic returns. These are the moments both teacher and child remember. This is where relationships grow and learning lives.

And what of our new teachers? They enter the profession not to be artists, but operators. They are taught to deliver, not to lead. To implement, not to create. Yes, they need support. Yes, they need structure. But we have taken too much. We have flattened their freedom and left them with laminated plans and no space to find their voice. We are shaping a generation of educators who may never know the joy of teaching their way, and that is a deep and bitter loss.

Yet still, I hold fast to the belief that teaching is the most meaningful vocation of all. I spent twenty-five years in educational settings: twenty-two in the classroom and three in school improvement. The privilege of shaping young minds, of watching children grow in confidence, curiosity and skill, is unlike anything else… and it stays with you long after you leave the classroom. There is joy in knowing where to take a child next, in igniting that spark and walking alongside them as they discover what they’re capable of. I didn’t leave the classroom because I couldn’t manage the demands; teachers expect challenge. We know this work is hard. But what we don’t expect is to be undermined by systems that erode trust, strip autonomy, and reduce teaching to task delivery. Teachers are not work-shy; they are professionals who take pride in doing the job well. But what we are increasingly weary of is the culture of surveillance, the “you are not good enough” narrative, and the ever-growing layers of accountability that rarely centre the child. I left because the pressures made it harder to do the job properly, harder to teach responsively, creatively, with care and instinct. And I know I’m not alone.

So, what would I say to the teachers standing in the middle of this?

You are not the problem. You are not failing. You are standing strong in a system that has forgotten what it means to trust its teachers. Your exhaustion is not weakness, it is the mark of someone who has been giving everything to everyone, with little left for yourself. Your frustration is not a flaw, it is a signal that you still care, that you still believe in what education could be. If you are questioning, it is because you hold standards higher than the system allows. And if you are weary, it is because you’ve been carrying far too much, for far too long.

This profession does not need more policy. It needs protection. It needs leaders who listen and structures that serve. It needs space for teachers to bring themselves to their practice - not just their compliance, but their creativity, their instinct, their voice. Because when teachers are trusted, children thrive. When classrooms are freed from the tyranny of templates and targets, learning becomes what it was always meant to be: alive, human, full of possibility. If we want children to be inspired, we must first set their teachers free.

Let them teach.

Before we lose what matters most.

#TeacherPressure

hall duty is hard because i’m an abuse survivor

I’m starting to write a series of posts and the purpose is…

…to identify the dynamics in my own personal life that contribute to the pressure that I feel as a teacher.

Yes — there are many external dynamics that challenge teachers. BUT I want to write about my unique, personal, internal dynamics that make my teaching duties pressure-filled for ME.

Hall Duty Be Like

They get out of class to wander the halls, watch tik tok, listen to their music, sneak into the bathroom to vape, meet up with their friends. Some try to avoid eye-contact so I might decide to skip questioning them. Some try the friendly-distract-the-teacher method to get me to chat and forget the fact that they are cutting class.

On hall duty…

…I feel afraid.

…I feel threatened.

…I feel vulnerable.

…I feel anxious.

I probably don’t look like I feel those things on the outside. But it is very much part of what I feel on the inside.

I don’t think that every teacher feels afraid on hall duty. But I think it is important for me to honestly recognize that I DO. Among the many factors that cause those feelings is a second one that I’ll mention in this post. (See first one here about being the son of a minister/pastor.)

2. Past abuse makes setting boundaries a panicky experience.

I won’t get into graphic detail here but, as a child, I was sexually abused by an adult, male babysitter. During the multiple acts of abuse my vocal cords seemed paralyzed. I would try to protest — my insides screaming to say, “stop! Don’t do this to me. What you are doing is wrong!” — but my 9 year old body was overwhelmed by his and I couldn’t manage to get a sound out. Once I miraculously was able to muster some kind of protesting grunt/noise/plea-for-mercy and he shut it down saying, “What?? Nothing is wrong here.”

Even though I’m an adult now (and I’m not threatened by a predator/abuser), my past trauma still affects me today — including as I carry out teaching responsibilities. Enforcing rules just absolutely SUCKS for me. I hate it. I am getting better at it (and therapy is helping) but UGH — high school teachers have to enforce rules sooooo freaking often!!! For me, the triggering, often subconscious, thoughts sound like, “I’m not safe. I don’t have the ability to use my voice to set boundaries.” “Ahhh! This is overwhelming because the students are constantly crossing lines and pushing the boundaries and I am helpless.” “People won’t like it if I point out something that is wrong so I better stay quiet.” “I won’t have the security that I need unless I perform in ways that please the people around me — so I better compromise on my values and let the students do what they prefer to do.”

So how does being an abuse survivor make me feel scared on hall duty?

My abuser did to me what he wanted — violating my boundaries — and he shut my voice down in the process. Because of this — it is scary for me to use my voice on hall duty. For example, fictional-student-Aiden is supposed to be upstairs in chemistry class but he arranges to get out of class to meet fictional-friend-Will in a downstairs boys’ bathroom. Yeah — you know the story. Stuff like this happens all the time in high schools. And a normal teacher, at the drop of a hat, might successfully redirect the two of them by confidently and quickly saying, “Aiden — what the heck are you doing?! You’re NOT supposed to be down here. Get back upstairs to class RIGHT NOW before I write you up for cutting.”

Gosh — I couldn’t do that in my dreams nor on my best of days. Instead, when I’m confronted by a situation like this, I freeze. For real. Like my heartbeat speeds up and my breathing dysregulates. Words get stuck in my throat. I know the students are up to no good but all I can muster is an intimidated smile and a nervous, “hey guys,” as they pull a fast one on me. They walk past me and I quickly look back at the nothing that I’m doing on my open laptop screen.

That’s my default. To do otherwise requires sooo much energy and drains the heck out of me. You wouldn’t believe the amount of emotional courage it costs for me to kindly but firmly confront Aiden and send him back upstairs.

I don’t think all teachers deal with this. But, because of my past, it is something I deal with on a daily basis. It’s part of what makes me feel pressure as a teacher.

Stay tuned. In future posts I will share additional, personal dynamics that make things like hall duty pressure-filled for me.

hall duty is hard because I was a pastor’s kid

I’m starting to write a series of posts and the purpose is…

…to identify the dynamics in my own personal life that contribute to the pressure that I feel as a teacher.

Yes — there are many external dynamics that challenge teachers. BUT I want to write about my unique, personal, internal dynamics that make my teaching duties pressure-filled for ME.

Hall Duty Be Like

They get out of class to wander the halls, watch tik tok, listen to their music, sneak into the bathroom to vape, meet up with their friends. Some try to avoid eye-contact so I might decide to skip questioning them. Some try the friendly-distract-the-teacher method to get me to chat and forget the fact that they are cutting class.

On hall duty…

…I feel afraid.

…I feel threatened.

…I feel vulnerable.

…I feel anxious.

I probably don’t look like I feel those things on the outside. But it is very much part of what I feel on the inside.

I don’t think that every teacher feels afraid on hall duty. But I think it is important for me to honestly recognize that I DO. Among the many factors that cause those feelings is one that I’ll mention in this post.

1. I am a son of a minister/pastor.

As pastor, my dad was hired by a community of Christian people in order to be their spiritual leader. Growing up, I saw that some pastors stayed at their church for a short time and some pastors stayed for a long time. I deduced that short-term pastors were the losers that the community didn’t end up liking. Perhaps they didn’t perform well enough or didn’t work hard enough to make the people happy. Job security, then, was correlated to the amount that a pastor was liked, esteemed and approved of. And as the oldest son of a pastor, I took on plenty of that pressure. I subconsciously thought that even I, as a child, better perform well because the opinion that the church had of ME and MY behavior would directly reflect upon my dad’s status within the church.

Even though I’m an adult now (and my dad and I live in different states), I still carrying those pressures into my job as a teacher. I often think subconscious, pressure-filled thoughts like, “I better impress those around me.” “I better be well-liked by everyone.” “I won’t have the security that I need unless I perform in ways that please the people around me.”

So how does being a pastor’s son make me feel scared on hall duty?

In order to survive and be secure, I need to be liked. On hall duty, at times I can feel enormous pressure because I have the thought that, “I will never be able to please the students that are walking the halls.” “How can I ever get them to like me if I have to confront them?” I have to ask them: ‘where are you going?’ or, ‘where are you supposed to be?’ or, ‘don’t you need to be in class right now?’” Confronting students will make them roll their eyes at me and get annoyed with me and make them complain about me to their friends. All of that — to the pastor’s kid inside of me — is a terrifying prospect. It’s part of what makes me feel pressure as a teacher.

Stay tuned. In future posts I will share additional, personal dynamics that make things like hall duty pressure-filled for me.

a list of pressures teachers face

I’m not sure where to start on writing for this blog because the pressures that teacher’s face are many. ChatGPT comes up with this list of teacher pressures:

1. Administrative & Bureaucratic Pressures

• High-stakes evaluations that may not account for challenges like unreliable resources (e.g., technology issues)

• Frequent changes in curriculum and policies without adequate training or input from teachers

• Standardized testing requirements and the pressure to "teach to the test"

• Excessive paperwork and documentation requirements

• Large class sizes with limited support

• Mandates from district/state/national levels that may not align with classroom realities

• Limited autonomy in lesson planning and instructional methods

• Pressure to meet unrealistic student performance benchmarks

2. Student-Related Pressures

• Managing diverse learning needs, including IEPs, 504 plans, and gifted students

• Addressing students’ emotional, psychological, and behavioral challenges

• Balancing discipline while maintaining positive relationships with students

• Handling student apathy, disengagement, or lack of motivation

• Dealing with students facing trauma, poverty, homelessness, or family instability

• Differentiating instruction for students at vastly different academic levels within the same classroom

• Pressure to ensure all students succeed despite external factors beyond the teacher’s control

3. Parental & Community Expectations

• Navigating difficult or uninvolved parents who may blame teachers for their child’s struggles

• Managing unrealistic parental expectations (e.g., expecting constant communication, special treatment)

• Pressure to be available beyond work hours to respond to emails, messages, and meetings

• Facing criticism or scrutiny from the community and social media

• Dealing with conflicts between parents, administrators, and school policies

4. Workload & Time Demands

• Excessive grading and lesson planning outside of school hours

• Required professional development, meetings, and additional duties that cut into planning time

• Lack of sufficient time to complete tasks within contracted hours

• Managing multiple preps (different subjects or grade levels)

• The expectation to sponsor or lead extracurricular activities with little or no additional compensation

• Balancing teaching with personal life, family, and self-care

5. Financial & Job Security Concerns

• Low pay compared to other professions requiring similar education and responsibility

• Out-of-pocket spending on classroom supplies and materials

• Uncertain job security due to budget cuts, enrollment changes, or shifting district priorities

• Limited financial incentives for experienced teachers compared to other professions

• Lack of adequate benefits or salary increases despite increasing demands

6. Emotional & Psychological Stress

• Burnout from chronic stress, overwork, and emotional labor

• Compassion fatigue from supporting students dealing with trauma and hardship

• Lack of mental health support or resources for teachers themselves

• Feeling undervalued or unappreciated by administration, parents, or society

• Frustration over systemic issues that hinder student success but are out of the teacher’s control

• Pressure to maintain a calm, composed demeanor despite personal or professional struggles

7. Societal & Political Pressures

• Being expected to address societal issues (bullying, mental health, DEI, civic engagement) without proper training

• Navigating political debates over curriculum content (history, sex education, banned books, etc.)

• Increased scrutiny from politicians and media, often blaming teachers for systemic failures

• The expectation to function as both an educator and a counselor, social worker, or disciplinarian

• Fear of school violence, active shooter situations, and lack of safety measures

• Being expected to implement policies that conflict with personal or professional ethics

And the list could go on and on.

I’m siting in the corner of a bar (the turkey BLT was amazing — thanks cinder!!) waiting for my daughter to get done with theater practice. And just reading the ChatGPT list makes me feel a bit panicky. My shoulders tense and I clench…shrinking further into the corner of the bar…aching to find a retreat from the daily weight of what I, as a teacher, face.

But I don’t think I want to start this blog by commenting on educational pressures in generalities.

I want to speak on behalf of mySELF — to explore and own my OWN story.

To identify the dynamics in my own personal life that contribute to the pressure that I feel as a teacher.

stay tuned. i will publish this series in parts.

How We Feel: a free app

The app helps me avoid feeling like I’m tumbled inside of a laundromat dryer.

I heard about it from a Brene Brown podcast.

The app says:

People who use more words to describe feelings are better at managing their emotions and getting their needs met.

My family of origin was never good at recognizing, understanding, labeling, expressing and regulating emotions. (RULER approach). This app helps me with every step of that approach — especially the labeling emotions part. In the app, I click on a feelings word and its definition pops up. The definitions help guide me towards labeling what I’m actually feeling. Once I label my feeling, I have the option of exploring what might be causing me to feel that emotion.

There is also the option of allowing AI to guide me in exploring the emotion, identifying thinking traps, suggesting actions, etc. SO HELPFUL. The app also has a TOOLS section with videos, quotes, exercises and tips.

I can analyze the feelings data. It even shows me patters of how I’m feeling based on the amount of sleep I get or based on what the weather has been like!!

I can connect with friends and choose when and if I want to share the feelings that I’m logging. I’ve told some of my students about it saying, “it’s kind of like SnapChat for your feelings!!”

It kind of sounds funny to say it…but it seems like using the app helps me realize what is actually happening to me and how I’m responding to it. Without granularly labeling my feelings — I feel like I’m in a laundromat dryer being bounced around and disoriented by my circumstances. The app helps me feel more grounded and in charge of my day.

It’s free. If you end up trying it out…please comment below. I’d love to hear about it if you like it.