Every Teacher Needs a “Why I Teach” Binder

There are times when I feel discouraged about being a teacher. Some days certainly weigh heavier than others, and there are moments when I quietly wonder if I should step away from the classroom altogether. Teaching can be exhausting in ways that are hard to explain unless you have lived it. The constant decisions, emotional investment, and the feeling that no matter how much you give, it never feels like enough.

On those days, I open my binder.

Inside that binder are the notes I have collected over my year of teaching. Many are from students and are handwritten on loose leaf paper, folded into little squares, or scribbled on sticky notes. They are often covered in pictures, doodles, or inside jokes that instantly remind of a specific classroom or a shared laugh. I also keep notes from colleagues and administrators who took the time to say thank you, recognize effort, or remind me that my work mattered.

Some notes thank me for listening. Others say that I made them feel seen or understood. A few declared that after my class, history finally made sense, or that they felt confident sharing their ideas for the first time. Together, these notes remind me why I do this work and why I go out of my way to create lessons that ask more of my students. They are quiet reminders that teaching is not always about test scores, lesson plans, or data points. It is (and always will be) about connection with my students. It is about showing up, again and again, even when it is hard.

Honestly, I think every teacher should have a “Why I Teach” binder. A place to hold the notes, drawings, emails, and small moments that quietly remind us why we started, especially for the times when we forget. It doesn’t have to be organized or pretty (mine isn’t), it just has to exist. On the days when the noise feels overwhelming and the doubt creeps in, having something physical to hold onto can be the difference between giving up and staying.

That binder doesn’t erase the challenges of teaching. It doesn’t fix burnout or solve systemic problems. However,  it does remind me of the good. It brings me back to the reasons why I chose this profession in the first place. When teaching feels heavy, I open my binder, and I remember that my work matters, the moments count, and there is still so much joy in the connections I make along the way.