Behind the classroom door: a day in the life of New Zealand teachers – part two
Real stories of dedication, challenges, and triumphs from educators across Aotearoa. In part two, a new-entrant teacher shares their day.
In this series, Dr Sarah Aiono shares diary-style snapshots of a teacher’s day, offering a raw and real look at both the rewards and challenges they face.
By stepping into their shoes, I aim to highlight the incredible impact teachers have on students’ lives and foster a deeper appreciation for their essential, yet often under-recognised, work.
Read the latest print edition of School News online HERE.
Diary Entry: Reflections from a New Entrant/Year One Teacher
7:00 AM
I arrived at school between 7:00 and 7:30 AM, as usual, to set up the classroom for the day’s activities. It’s always the quiet before the storm, a moment to gather my thoughts and prepare for the chaos and demands of a full day ahead.
8:00 AM
One of my tamariki, S., who has experienced extreme trauma, usually arrives around this time. The handover from their grandparent can be intense—physical removals that often involve S. lashing out with punches, kicks, and sometimes spitting. It’s heart-wrenching and physically demanding, as I try to comfort S. and help them regulate their emotions. This transition can take anywhere from 20 to 45 minutes and leaves me bruised and emotionally spent.
8:45 AM
As other children and their whānau arrive, I greet them, sometimes from the couch where I’m still sitting with S. Each child brings their own unique needs and stories to the classroom. Another of my tamariki, R., who is non-verbal and dealing with their trauma, always has something they’ve made at home to show me, which we communicate through gestures and help from their grandparent.
9:20 AM
By this time, all are usually settled on the mat. We begin our day with our routine—karakia, calendar maths, and a preview of the day’s activities, followed by some calming yoga or just dance to help the tamariki transition into learning mode.
10:45 AM
Morning tea is a time for me to sit with the tamariki and share kai. It’s a quieter moment, one where I can interact with them in a less structured setting. It’s during these times I see small victories, like G. starting to eat small amounts at school—a significant step given their background.
11:15 AM – 12:30 PM
The middle block of the day involves settling down with a book, then trying to continue with our visual timetable. It’s a juggle trying to meet each child’s educational goals amid the various disruptions and needs.
1:15 PM
After lunch, we gather on the mat again for some quiet music and a story from Storyline Online. This helps settle the tamariki before we pack up for the day. They choose between educational games or free play, and we end our day sharing what we’ve enjoyed or achieved.
Throughout the Day
The day is punctuated by moments where I need to be hyper-aware of R’s needs, watching for non-verbal cues that they need the toilet or are overwhelmed by changes. The physical and emotional closeness required is draining; I often trip over them as they stay close to my side.
Reflections
Reflecting on my class composition truly highlights why I’m so exhausted by the end of each day:
6 children currently experiencing extreme trauma
3 children experiencing trauma
3 neurodivergent children
6 showing neurodivergent behaviours but undiagnosed
4 considered “typical”
In a decile 5 kura, I am juggling not just educational goals but also the emotional and social needs of a group of children who rely on the classroom for stability and safety. This year, more than ever, our focus is on the well-being of our tamariki, which is far more crucial than traditional academic pursuits.
Personal Impact
By the end of the day, the emotional and mental toll is palpable. I find myself approaching burnout, deeply saddened by the situations many of my tamariki and their families face. When I get home, I’m drained, with little left to offer my own children. They deserve a mum who is present and engaged, not just physically there but emotionally exhausted.
A special thank you goes to the incredible teachers who generously shared their stories for this series. These are all real accounts from real educators, whose experiences have been thoughtfully adjusted to protect the privacy of both the teachers and their communities. Their openness provides us with a genuine window into the daily realities of teaching, and we are deeply grateful for their willingness to contribute.
By sharing their personal insights, these teachers help us understand both the triumphs and challenges they navigate every day. We hope this series not only informs but also deepens our collective appreciation for the vital role they play in shaping the future of Aotearoa New Zealand.
