There are no two opinions about the fact that education is the backbone of the nation, and it is also a fact that our teachers are the spinal cord of the nation. Ironically, the nation seems to be totally oblivious to their problems and sufferings. In thousands of classrooms in dilapidated buildings all over the country, especially in rural areas, a teacher may arrive after a walk of many miles. He then wipes the sweat from his brow, opens a flimsy register, and begins his class, sitting in a classroom without the basic facilities of furniture or a ceiling fan.
Even in expensive private universities in urban centres, a university professor dashes from one class to another, juggling his lecture notes, class assignments, and research deadlines, trying to balance student demands with the needs of his own family. The working conditions in rural schools and modern urban institutions are poles apart, but the common factor is that our teachers are a neglected lot and need closer attention to their miserable plight and to save them from the inevitable burnout.
Our teachers, or the so-called “Nation Builders,” are now facing slow death or burnout, which can be defined as a gradual end of mental, physical, and emotional strength. This is a common phenomenon from rural schools to the very modern university campuses all over the country. Teachers are now perhaps the most neglected, underpaid, overworked, and victimised segment of our working class, or even our highly educated tech elite.
The obvious causes for this unfortunate state of affairs are very clear and glaring, namely overcrowded classrooms, lengthy lesson preparations, and checking and grading of assignments, tests, and exam papers. In most government schools, and even in some private institutions, a teacher has to cope with an average of 50 students in a class. At the university level, faculty members are burdened with teaching, research, administrative meetings, and the demand for “visibility” in rankings.
Teachers must be given full access to mental health care, job security, and the dignity of labour, with the benefit of an easy and economically beneficial retirement and old-age benefits
This results not only in reduced passion—until what remains is a body present in class—but also in a spirit that has silently departed. For rural teachers, inadequate facilities—broken benches, insufficient textbooks, leaky roofs—compound the stress. For urban teachers, the ceaseless push for exam performance and institutional reputation replaces joy with anxiety. Job insecurity looms large too, especially for young teachers on short-term contracts.
With a large number of teachers at the burnout stage, lessons become uninteresting and mechanical, creativity is destroyed, fatigue sets in, and enthusiasm dies. Teaching is now a profession not by choice but by compulsion. Most teachers, after trying for civil services, banking, or tech jobs, finally end up in the teaching profession to make both ends meet. Talented teachers leave for better-paying jobs in NGOs, private coaching, or foreign opportunities. The ones who remain often carry the scars of disillusionment.
This vicious cycle leaves schools and colleges scrambling to recruit replacements, while students—our future citizens—suffer the consequences of inconsistency and neglect. The overburdened, tired, and burnt-out teachers carry the burden of their profession to their homes too. Parents, siblings, children, and spouses have to bear the weight of their professional miseries. Teachers who teach patience and good manners in class may snap at their own child at the dinner table. Husband and wife both in the teaching profession could suffer in their marital life because of the stresses created by their profession.
In most educated societies, it has been proved conclusively that when teachers are respected, looked after, and not overworked, student outcomes show a dramatic improvement. So why should we not take a lesson from this? We should create an educational system where teachers’ wellbeing is important, and teachers are the main pillar of the system and not pushed negligently to the periphery.
The solution to the problem is not rocket science but very simple and practical. Workload should be reduced, class sizes limited, and administrative duties banned. Teachers are supposed to teach, not spend time on clerical work. Every educational institution—from the government primary school in Sahiwal to the private university in Islamabad—should build communities of care. Peer mentoring, regular dialogue between teachers and administrators, and professional development programmes in stress management are essential.
Our government must know that teacher wellbeing is a measurable indicator of quality. Investing in mental health services, counselling centres, and wellness initiatives for teachers is as vital as investing in ICT labs or digital classrooms. Teachers today are like burning candles who burn themselves out for others. What we desperately need are teachers who shine steadily and are nourished by respect, prosperity, and recognition.
In Pakistan, we do celebrate Teachers’ Day once a year with glowing speeches, garlands, and applause for our teachers. Real respect is not in just symbolic gestures but in creating a system where teachers can live in respect, dignity, and financial security. We need happy and smiling teachers at all levels. Teachers must be given full access to mental health care, job security, and the dignity of labour, with the benefit of an easy and economically beneficial retirement and old-age benefits.
Education reform cannot only be about syllabi, gadgets, or examinations. It must be about the wellbeing of the human beings who carry the nation’s dreams on their shoulders. For if the teacher breaks, the classroom collapses. And if the classroom collapses, the nation stumbles. To save the soul of education in Pakistan, we must begin by saving the spirit of its teachers.