“I didn’t get breakfast.” “My grandma is in the hospital.” “I forgot my backpack, please don’t tell my dad!”
These are some of the first words I hear in my classroom on the west side of Salt Lake County, often before the bell has finished ringing. They are not excuses. They are realities my sixth graders carry with them into school every day.
I come to my classroom prepared to teach reading, math, critical thinking and basic social skills. Increasingly, however, I spend my mornings responding to hunger, fear and family crisis because the systems meant to support children and families have been slowly eroded. This reality is not only failing students; it is driving teacher burnout at an alarming rate.
When lawmakers cut funding for programs like mental health services, language development and other vital community resources, the need does not disappear. It shows up in classrooms. Teachers become de facto parents, counselors, social workers and crisis managers. Instruction becomes secondary to survival. I care deeply about my students. Most teachers do. But care cannot replace capacity.
Many of my students arrive exhausted or emotionally overwhelmed. Some are responsible for younger siblings because parents are working multiple jobs to afford basic necessities like housing and food. Others are navigating trauma or untreated mental health challenges with little to no professional support. Many are learning academic content in a language they are still acquiring without sufficient services to bridge the gap.
In those moments, I cannot teach! Not because I lack dedication, but because learning cannot happen until basic human needs are met.
This is not a failure of families. It is the predictable result of structural decisions.
A lack of access to education limits earning power. Limited earning power forces families to work longer hours or multiple jobs. When affordable child care is unavailable, responsibility shifts to older siblings — children who should be focused on their own learning, not acting as surrogate parents. Those children often arrive at school tired, anxious and academically behind, carrying burdens far beyond their years. Teachers witness this daily. And we are burning out under the weight of it.
Burnout is not about weak resolve but about being asked to do the impossible each year without adequate support. When classrooms become the default safety net for mental health care, food insecurity and family crisis, teachers are pulled further from their primary role. Planning periods become crisis response. Instructional time is lost. Emotional labor compounds.
Eventually, even the most committed educators leave. This is already happening, particularly in high-need communities like those on the west side of Salt Lake. When experienced teachers leave, students lose stability. Communities lose trusted adults who often serve as consistent, caring figures in children’s lives. The long-term consequences should concern every Utahn.
When children do not receive early language support, mental health care and stable supervision, the effects ripple outward. Academic gaps widen. Disengagement increases. Older siblings who sacrifice their education face limited opportunities. Over time, communities bear the cost through higher dropout rates, greater involvement with the justice system and rising crime.
Prevention is far less expensive than repair. Utah lawmakers must understand that cutting funding for these supports does not eliminate responsibility; it redistributes it. The burden lands on classrooms and on teachers who are reaching their breaking point.
If we want strong families, we must support the systems that help families thrive. If we want safe communities, we must invest early before unmet needs escalate into crises. And if we want students to succeed, we must allow teachers to teach.
That means fully funding school-based mental health professionals. It means expanding access to affordable child care so older siblings can be students, not caretakers. And it means listening to educators when we say the current model is unsustainable. I will continue to show up for my students. But dedication alone cannot hold together a system weakened by policy neglect.
Without legislative action, these conditions will worsen. Teacher burnout will accelerate. Educational inequities will deepen. And the cost to children, families and communities will be far greater than the investment required today.
Utah’s classrooms are speaking. It is time for the Legislature to listen.