Last Tuesday, I sat in my car after school and just cried.

Not the pretty tears you see in movies, but the ugly, exhausted kind that come after a day when everything went wrong. Marcus had thrown a chair during math. Sofia was crying because she forgot her lunch money again. The copy machine broke down right before I needed to print my reading assessments. And then, the final straw: an email from a parent questioning why her child wasn't reading at grade level yet.

I texted my friend Carmen: "Some days I wonder why I do this."

Her response? "Because you're exactly where you're supposed to be, mija."

The Hard Truth About Hard Days

Let's be honest about something we don't talk about enough in our teacher Facebook groups. Some days, teaching is just hard. Not "challenging in a growth mindset way" hard. Just plain, bone-deep difficult.

After 22 years in the classroom, I've learned that pretending every day is sunshine and "I love my job" posts on social media doesn't help anyone. We need to acknowledge the weight we carry before we can find the light.

At my Title I school, I see kids who come to school hungry. Kids who are raising their younger siblings. Kids who are brilliant and funny and creative, but who carry burdens that would break most adults.

Some days, the system feels broken. The standards change faster than we can learn them. The testing pressure never lets up. We're asked to be teachers, counselors, nurses, and miracle workers all at once.

And yet, we show up.

Small Moments, Big Gratitude

Here's what I've discovered about gratitude in teaching: it's not about the big, Instagram-worthy moments. It's in the tiny spaces between the chaos.

Like when Jayden, who struggles with everything academic, helps tie another student's shoes without being asked. Or when Aaliyah finally gets long division and her face lights up like she just discovered fire.

Last month, I started keeping what I call my "pocket gratitude" list. Just small things I notice throughout the day that I jot down on a sticky note:

• Emma shared her crayons without being reminded
• The custodian, Mr. Rodriguez, left me an extra box of tissues
• My planning period actually stayed a planning period
• Three kids remembered to push in their chairs

These aren't earth-shattering moments. But when I read them at the end of a rough day, they remind me why I'm here.

The Gratitude That Comes From Struggle

I used to think gratitude meant being thankful for the good stuff. But teaching has taught me something deeper: sometimes we're grateful for the hard things too.

I'm grateful for Marcus throwing that chair because it showed me he was overwhelmed, not defiant. It led to a conversation that helped me understand his home situation better.

I'm grateful for Sofia's tears over lunch money because it reminded me that small things feel big when you're nine years old. It helped me create a more discreet system for kids who need meal support.

I'm grateful for that parent's email because it pushed me to look at my reading instruction with fresh eyes and try some new strategies.

The struggles aren't just obstacles to overcome. They're information. They're opportunities. They're reminders that this work matters precisely because it's not easy.

Finding Your People

One thing that's saved my sanity over the years is finding my teacher tribe. The colleagues who get it when you say you're tired in your bones. Who celebrate the small wins with you. Who bring you coffee on the hard days without you having to ask.

Yolanda across the hall and I have a system. When one of us is having a rough day, we text the other a simple "SOS." No explanation needed. The other person shows up with chocolate, takes playground duty, or just listens.

Build your network, whether it's in your school, online, or both. Teaching can feel isolating, but it doesn't have to be.

Redefining Success

Early in my career, I thought success meant every kid passing every test, perfect bulletin boards, and lessons that went exactly as planned. Ay, Dios mío, was I setting myself up for disappointment.

Now I know that some days, success is keeping everyone safe and fed. Success is one breakthrough moment with a struggling reader. Success is maintaining your sense of humor when the fire alarm goes off during your observation.

Success is showing up tomorrow, even after a day like last Tuesday.

The Long View

When I'm in the thick of a difficult day, I try to remember why I started teaching. Not the noble reasons I wrote in my education school essays, but the real reason: I wanted to be the adult I needed when I was a kid.

Sometimes that means teaching fractions. Sometimes it means listening to a story about a lost tooth or a new puppy. Sometimes it means being the steady presence in a child's chaotic world.

We plant seeds every single day, even when we can't see them growing. Especially when we can't see them growing.

Your Gratitude Practice

If you're reading this during a tough season, here's what I want you to try. Start small. Don't pressure yourself to feel grateful for everything all at once.

Pick one moment from today. Maybe it's a student's smile, a colleague's kindness, or simply the fact that you made it through. Write it down. Put it somewhere you'll see it tomorrow.

Do it again tomorrow. And the next day.

Not because toxic positivity says you should be grateful. But because in this beautiful, messy, impossible profession, the light is often hiding in the ordinary moments.

And we need to train ourselves to see it.

Teaching is hard, friends. Let's stop pretending it's not. But let's also stop pretending that hard means hopeless. You're doing important work, even on the days when it doesn't feel like it.

Especially on those days.

What's one small thing you're grateful for from your classroom this week? I'd love to hear about it in the comments. We need to remind each other that the light is still there, even when the days feel long.