She thinks of the circumstances under which she left. The faces of her Grade 6s appear, along with those of her colleagues she was never able to say goodbye to. To offer an explanation. To apologise. To say, ‘I’m sorry for letting you down’.

‘Teacher guilt’, is the term Lai describes, an insidious condition that she says plagues many educators, and often for long after they’ve quit the profession.

“Teacher guilt, by definition – and I think teachers know what it is – it’s pretty much whenever you don’t give all of yourself in every aspect to the job, you feel guilty because you could do more.

“I think it’s just part of being a teacher, that if you’re not doing what you think you can to help a child, you always feel like you’re letting that child down or you’re letting your class down, you’re letting admin down, you’re letting the parents down.

“There’s always somebody to let down,” Lai shares.

After suffering from extreme burnout, exacerbated by the challenges of working in the system as an autistic teacher, Lai reached breaking point during the COVID lockdowns and was forced to leave her job at a Queensland school.

The teacher guilt since has been tough to wrestle with, she says.

“I felt really guilty about leaving the students when I did, my Year 6s, because it’s a pivotal [year].

“I can rationalise it, but basically I felt like I abandoned them. I still can’t go into the school because there’s just too much guilt about leaving the way I did.”

Dr Saul Karnovsky, from Curtin University’s School of Education, has recently co-edited a new book that reveals the depth of emotional intensity that teachers endure in their jobs. 

Karnovsky said while teachers pour their emotions into their work every day, from the classroom to parent meetings, until now we’ve lacked the language to unpack these experiences in a meaningful way.

“The book elevates teacher voices to explore the realities of their working lives and spark new conversations about how we can care for and support educators in ways that go beyond simple fixes,” Karnovsky told EducationHQ in March.

“Teachers are not just feeling burnt out, they’re navigating an emotionally complex profession that reflects broader societal issues.”

For Lai, teaching became her entire identity as her years in the classroom clocked up.

“Your whole life is centred around it, so [when you do leave] it can impact you really negatively for a long time,” she says.

There’s also a clear societal expectation that “teachers just give up everything, their whole being almost, to the benefit of those children…,” Lai suggests.

“It’s a duty, and people that don’t either work with teachers or have personal experiences through being one, or having family members or friends that are [might struggle to understand].” 

It’s tricky to look after your own wellbeing in a system that requires you to give so much of yourself day-in, day-out, she says.

“Even if you’re the best, smartest teacher in the world, the amount of empathy that teachers give is going to take over their own self-care practices.

“[Education departments] need to take something away from the curriculum and content that is going to make it easier for teachers,” Lai argues.

Last year a report released by a team of researchers from multiple universities identified that there is ‘limited available work’ on neurodivergent teachers.

However, it highlighted one study from 2023, which saw 149 participants surveyed who were (or had been) school staff that identified as autistic.

“The authors reported on themes including poor treatment from staff, limited understanding from others with respect to autism in the workplace, and a limited availability of support structures, amongst others,” the report states.

“[One 2024 study] analysed discourses from 12 former teachers and school staff who identified as autistic.

“The research found that former teachers and school staff experienced exclusion, challenges with sensory environments of schools, social centred activities, and inflexible school structures, amongst others…,” the report adds.

Lai says school leaders could consider establishing activity-based groups or sporting clubs to help neurodivergent staff to establish better social bonds with their colleagues.

“I think these are becoming more popular within schools. Like, there are things that you can do, like workout clubs, book clubs.

“So I think having an interest-based club for teachers, or any staff really, is a really good thing because it takes the actual social trickiness out of it,” she says.

Recently on the Australian teachers Reddit page, one aspiring teacher posed the question:

“Hi there! I’m autistic and I’ve just started my Master of Teaching, with my methods being history and humanities. I think I’m really excited about this opportunity but I keep wondering about whether teaching will be a sustainable career or whether it’ll swiftly lead to sensory overload, exhaustion, and burnout. Are there any other autistic teachers out there who could offer advice on how to manage the career with autism?”

The prompt drew swift commentary, with one teacher offering:

“I was just diagnosed and so many things make sense now. My biggest issues are communication with other staff as school culture can be so group-think oriented and people love to play politics. I’ve learned to just be quiet instead of trying to join in. They’re supposed to understand autism in this profession but NTs really don’t get it.”

Another shared their success in navigating their role:

“My students really respond well to my consistency. They recognise me applying the same rules over and over, and I also explain the why of my rules – and the why if I make an exception. That’s actually a huge thing they react to well: I can and do explain my reasoning. Works for all neurotypes.”

The teacher went on to concede that ‘there have been hard parts’ as well:

“My first couple of years I had a few meltdowns at work, but I was able to hold them in until after class and to find a private space. I found one of the assistant principals really approve and we got on well, and she gave me free leave to just come and sit in her office whenever I needed. I could cry, do whatever I needed to. I even kept a large push bunny (my preferred calming stim) in a drawer in her filing cabinet, so I could access that as I needed to,” they posted. 

This is the second article in a series sharing the experiences of autistic teachers. Read the first article here.