On the mental health of teachers

Photo: Foto: Suraaj M – Pixabay

THE GREAT SCAM. Opinion section by David Cerdá

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David Cerdá

According to the International Barometer of Education Staff (I-BEST 2023), coordinated in Spain by FECCOO, 40 per cent of education staff report having experienced anxiety, depression or despair, while 65 per cent describe their work as “quite” or “very” stressful. In addition, 51 per cent struggle to reconcile their professional and personal lives. The First National Study on Teachers’ Emotional Wellbeing (2023), conducted in Spain, reveals that almost 40 per cent of teachers believe they show symptoms of depression. Data for the 2023–2024 academic year were no less alarming: 69.9 per cent of cases attended presented anxiety, depression affected 13.45 per cent, and 16.1 per cent of teachers were forced to take medical leave. There was also a 7.9 per cent increase in the number of interventions, reaching a total of 2,101 cases, most of them in secondary and primary education.

Up to this point, the figures—figures that we have irresponsibly come to normalise. The century unfolds in such a pathological way that, not long ago, this scenario would have triggered every possible alarm. Today, instead, the response seems limited to pills and looking the other way. No one appears particularly concerned that anxiolytics now circulate in staff rooms with the same naturalness as aspirin once did, or that counselling services are overflowing with broken educational toys. From schools themselves—let alone from the administration—very little is done; and from outside comes something even worse: the invocation of “vocation” to silence complaint, the relentless refrain about excessive holidays and other so-called “teaching privileges” used to deny the obvious, namely, any awareness of the responsibility each actor bears in this wreckage.

Working as a teacher becomes more difficult by the day. Not only because of bureaucratic overload, constant evaluative pressure or regulatory instability, but because something essential has been steadily eroded: social recognition and institutional care for those who sustain the school system. Resilience is demanded without support, dedication is expected without dignified conditions, and professionalism is confused with silent sacrifice. Meanwhile, malaise becomes chronic, medicalised, and concealed beneath saccharine discourses that invoke vocation as a moral alibi. It is time to say clearly that no vocation—however genuine—can survive indefinitely the degradation of systemic conditions. Caring for education necessarily means caring for those who educate; everything else is rhetoric that worsens the problem and perpetuates an abnormal normality that ceased to be sustainable long ago.

There will be fewer and fewer teachers. Among those who remain, sick leave is increasingly common. The most recent data show a clear upward trend. In the 2024–2025 academic year, 17.3 per cent of teachers assisted by the Teachers’ Ombudsman service of ANPE took medical leave for mental health reasons, while 11.7 per cent reported symptoms of depression—figures that exceed those of the previous year. In the 2021–2022 report, teachers on sick leave accounted for 15 per cent of cases handled by the service; further back, in the 2019–2020 period, work-related leave stood at around 11 per cent of cases. The slope of this curve makes it clear that there is much work to be done in this area.

Behind every statistic there is a person: a teacher who has felt their energy and enthusiasm crumble day after day. We are not speaking only of numbers; we are speaking of lives worn down in silence, of vocations fractured under the weight of indifference and constant pressure. The school, which should be a space for growth and discovery, has become for many a place of exhaustion and anxiety. If we continue to look the other way, normalising suffering as part of the job, we will be allowing the most valuable thing to wither away: an essential public service that shapes our societies—the strength of those who shape the future. This is a cry that demands to be heard, an urgent warning that caring for education inevitably means caring for those who sustain it.

There are possible paths towards reversing this situation. Improving psychological support for teachers and reducing administrative burdens—attention should be paid here to what AI might offer in hacking the bureaucratic monster—are the most obvious and immediate measures. But the central task must be the re-dignification of the profession. Cooperation between schools, families and public authorities can also help rebuild a climate of respect and recognition that is sorely lacking today. This is not about accumulating empty promises; it is about recognising that a healthy, supported teaching workforce is the foundation of quality education. If we act with awareness and determination, it is still possible to rescue the profession from its current state, transforming an anguished landscape into a future in which educating once again becomes an act of joy and hope.

Source: educational EVIDENCE

Rights: Creative Commons