When I started teaching in 1992, the principal required the entire faculty to turn in our weekly lesson plans. Even as a young, green teacher, I called them “My weekly fictions,” because as soon as Monday was over, the plan had changed.

We went too fast or too slow. The kids already knew the material. I realized I was off base for some reason or other. A million things could have altered my trajectory for the week.

A lesson never goes 100% the way you expect. You’re dealing with, in my case, nearly 40 human beings in every class. Things come up and situations change.

As boxer Mike Tyson famously said, “Everybody has a plan until they’re punched in the face.”

Teaching, as that quote reminds us, is a full-contact sport. If you take it seriously, roll up your sleeves, and get down in the trenches, you’re not only going to get roughed up a bit, but your plan is going to change. It’s just part of the game.

But that quote also speaks to being able to roll with whatever comes your way; it’s about being flexible and spontaneous.

A rigid teacher is dead in the water.

As Will Fritz, a teacher and fellow Substacker, said recently, “Teachers know that the lesson plan is only a theory. Then the students arrive and the teaching begins.”

Any teacher who has taught more than five minutes understands how true that is, and they learn to trust their expertise, intuition, and experience — knowing that anything can happen in the classroom once the bell rings.

That’s part of the magic of teaching.

When I did it right, this type of spontaneity was always one of my favorite parts of teaching because you didn’t know what would happen or where things would go.

And neither did the students, which very often kept them even more engaged.

As I say in my book, Teaching Is Being: Embracing the Educator Within, “Be prepared, and have a plan. But embrace spontaneity on the other side of “the plan.”

Teaching is like surfing. A surfer doesn’t try to control the wave, but instead works in tune with it. You have to have the skill to stay on the board, but you also have to understand the power of the sea and adapt accordingly. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

I stopped making New Year’s Resolutions years ago simply because I never follow through. The magic part is that I’ve learned that reflection, change, and improvement can (and should) happen all year long.

For teachers, the start of the school year signals a new beginning, and so the transition from summer to those pre-school inservice PDs is worth some reflection and inquiry.

Here are some questions for us to consider as we ruminate over our growth as educators for the 2026-2027 school year:

–What is the essence of my lesson?

–How can I streamline my curriculum to emphasize the important stuff?

–What is the important stuff?

–Where do I want to be by June?

–What do I need to get rid of to make room for my passion? What needs to go?

–What do my students need?

–How can I reach that unreachable kid?

–How can I be more present in the lesson?

–Where is the negativity and how can I get rid of it?

–How can I develop more gratitude and compassion in the classroom?

–What do I need to do to take care of me?

–What steps do I need to take to involve (or ignore) the administration?

–Do I need to create physical space in my classroom or spend time decluttering?

–What personal or professional development do I need?

–What steps should I take to take care of my health, as it relates to teaching?

–How will I cope with the stressors thrown at me by The Education Machine?

–Which teachers, leaders, or programs do I want to align myself with, interact with, or follow? And which do I dismiss?

–And will there be cookies?

If you are able to answer even a handful of these questions, and can put those answers into play, I suspect you’ll have a more effective—and sustainable—year as a teacher.*

The alternative means doing things the way I’ve always done them–and that’s just so 2014. TZT

*If these questions are helpful to you, I would love to hear how you put them into play.

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

Teaching doesn’t exactly reward stillness. It rewards motion — circulating, redirecting, answering the same question four different ways for four different kids, all while mentally tracking who still owes you a permission slip. Stillness can feel like the opposite of doing your job.

But let’s clear something up: stillness is not a personality trait. It’s not something you’re born with, like blue eyes or brown hair or a tolerance for the music of One Direction. It’s a practice — which means it’s a skill, which means anyone can build it--even you, even in the fluorescent-lit chaos of Room 214, fifth period, right after lunch.

But here’s the thing: stillness isn’t the opposite of the work. It’s what makes the work sustainable.

Try this. Take five minutes — just five — and stop. Sit down. Put your hands in your lap. Breathe like you mean it.

Do nothing productive whatsoever (ouch, right?).

Someone will probably walk in and ask if you’re okay. A colleague might peek their head in, register the sight of a stationary teacher, and back away slowly like they’ve interrupted something private. Or worse, they’ll think you’re being lazy. So what? That’s fine. Let them wonder. What others think of you is none of your business.

Because the truth is: You’re not neglecting your job — you’re maintaining the instrument you do your job with.

Stillness, practiced regularly, clears the static so you can actually hear your own thinking again.

And the part people don’t expect is that it makes you a better teacher. Calmer. More present. Less likely to snap at the kid who’s asked to go to the bathroom for the third time that hour.

The world won’t hand you this time.

You have to take it.

So take five minutes.

Right now, if you can.

And if you want, you can listen to One Direction again when you get back. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

Apparently some kind of major soccer event has been happening lately.

The World Mug. The Planet Saucer. The Earth Tupperware.

I don’t know. Something like that.

The thing is: I couldn’t be less interested in sports. Of any kind.

The only March Madness I’m interested in is knowing that there’s less than 15 weeks left in the school year.

So the fact that Erling Haaland is even on my radar is something of a miracle.

But I recently started noticing him and, like the rest of the world, I was instantly charmed.

I knew I liked him, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why.

It wasn’t until I read this article that I figured it out.

In addition to being a monster soccer player, Mr. Haaland is having fun.

He smiles.

He dances.

He makes silly faces.

He wears funny hats.

He’s kind to others.

He’s humble.

He takes his work seriously, but not much else.

Let’s face it: These are not fun times. America is in throes of an unpopular war with questionable objectives and murky goals, we don’t know which politicians and experts to trust and which ones to dismiss, we can’t trust media we can see with our own eyes because it might be A.I., educators are still seeing pandemic fallout in the achievement and work ethic of their students, and I will spare you the gory details of the problems we’re currently having with lettuce.

It’s a lot to navigate.

But Haaland is an object lesson on how to deal with such things.

His example: Be very good at what you do, but don’t forget the fun.

It’s possible to do both.

To have both.

Haaland teaches us that. . .

Silliness is a Super Power to get us through tough times.

Humility is one of the most enlightened ways of traveling through this world.

Kindness is a gift we give others that returns to us exponentially.

Joy is a gift we give ourselves.

You may or may not ever kick a little ball through a net in front of the entire world.

But whatever you do, try to have fun while you’re doing it.

Because even in troubled times, Life can be fun*.

If you let it.TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

*Please see below a couple examples of my own attempts at having fun.

I spent my entire first year of teaching dealing with bronchitis.

Not because I had a compromised immune system, but because my school district was offering a $300 attendance incentive to any teacher who didn’t miss a single day all year. I was a brand-new teacher, fresh out of college, and, at least to me, $300 sounded like a fortune.

So I did what a lot of beginning teachers do: I convinced myself I could “power through.”

For months, my days were a hazy blend of Kleenex and essay grading, DayQuil and Shakespeare. I coughed through direct instruction, blew my nose as discreetly as I could, and somehow kept showing up every morning certain I was doing a noble thing.

I told myself I was dedicated, but I was just being stubborn.

At the end of the year, I proudly collected my $300.

The next year I got sick again, but this time there was no attendance bonus, so I stayed home.

And something remarkable happened.

My students survived.

The school didn’t collapse.

The substitute didn’t accidentally set the classroom on fire.

When I came back, I actually felt...better. Imagine that.

I had more energy. More patience and focus. I could think clearly.

Best of all, I wasn’t sharing my germs with 180 teenagers who, let’s be honest, were already able to fill enough petri dishes on their own.

Now, look: I know the argument.

Writing sub plans can feel like more work than just dragging yourself to school. I’ve made that case myself more times than I care to admit.

But here’s what I eventually learned: sick days aren’t a reward for perfect attendance. They’re part of your compensation. You don’t earn them by suffering through bronchitis. You already earned them by showing up every other day.

So use them.

Come back ready to teach instead of merely remaining upright.

Because in the long run, $300—or whatever incentive you’re chasing—is almost never worth sacrificing your health.

Some lessons come at a price.

This one cost me exactly $300. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

Photo credit: Cali Griebel Photography

We’ve got it backwards.

We don’t EARN rest.

That’s a myth.

Rest is NOT the reward for productivity.

Rest is the thing that makes the earning and the productivity possible.

It’s not lazy, unprofessional, or shoddy.

Rest is regenerative.

It renews us.

It recharges us.

Especially for teachers, it’s easy to get on this treadmill of “doing,” and forget the deeply fulfilling luxury of just “being.”

(Look at me just “being” on my bench in the photo above!).

People have responsibilities. I get that.

I’m not saying wing the lesson plans, ignore your spouse, or neglect to feed the baby.

In fact, one of those is critical.

But I don’t judge. I’ll let you choose which one.

I’m just saying that when you can find five minutes to stop, don’t spend it feeling guilty about “not producing”.

Wasting your rest time with guilt is heartbreaking. It’s yours. Use it. Enjoy it. Because it’s only when you rest that you can return to the chaos with a sense of equanimity and peace.

So when the education machine seems like it’s not stopping long enough for you to even take a breath, take notice.

When there’s too much to do, when your schedule is swamped, when things in the classroom get so crazy you consider becoming an account or a carnie—anything but continue on in a profession that just won’t stop. . .That’s a good time to rest.

Even for a moment.

We all know teaching COULD BE a 24/7 job.

But it doesn’t HAVE to be.

It’s up to you to put on the brakes.

Remember: You don’t have to crunch numbers for Big Pharma or operate sketchy rides at the local fair.

Teaching can be a sustainable career.

If you only get a little rest. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

When I retired from teaching a few weeks ago, I took over 30 years of boxes and supplies and materials from my classroom and put them in my guest room.

It was so full of boxes and junk, it looked like a storage unit.

When I finally took the time to clean it out — three long-ish afternoons in total — it was a pretty good space.

It has three parts: a guest room for friends and family to stay overnight, an office to write and do business, and a quiet reading nook.

I absolutely love music, and so with a very generous retirement gift from my English department, I bought a Sony Bluetooth speaker that connects to Spotify, and I set it on my bookcase.

Rapidly, that space has became my favorite place in my tiny condo. Why do I like it? Because it’s the “other space.”

It’s not the place where I sleep — my bedroom.

It’s not the place where I eat — my kitchen table.

It’s not the place where I watch television — my recliner in the living room.

It is now “the other space.”

It’s where I read books from my stocked bookcase, where I listen to music, where I write my poems on my Old School typewriter (. . .sorry neighbors! Clackety-clack!), where I look through my photography gear and plan my photo shoots.

It’s where I plan my pieces of writing, like this one.

I used to do all of those things, of course. But I’d squeeze them into whatever other space I could manage, usually at the kitchen table or on my bed. But it’s so lovely to have a third space now.

Can you create a little area in your life — inside your house or not — for the things you do, the things you love, that aren’t eating, sleeping, or television?

In your house, maybe it’s an office? A patio? The backyard? Even a corner in your living room?

If there’s no room at home, maybe a local coffeehouse?

The public library? A bench at the local park?

I’ve learned that having a little space to do the things that are special to us is crucial.

See if you can find it.

Because you’re worth it. TZT

P.S. Next step? Getting rid of that yucky floral wallpaper. :)

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

Richard Carlson’s book Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff. . .And it’s All Small Stuff has a brief chapter entitled “Let Others Be Right Most of the Time.”

I think he’s right.

Think of all the energy it takes to defend your opinion, to take a stand, to be right all the time. It’s exhausting. As Carlson asks us to ask ourselves, “Do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy?”

We’ve forgotten how to say, “I don’t know, I don’t have all the answers, I have room to learn, I don’t have to always be right.” We’ve lost that art because in our society, it’s a giant no-no. We are encouraged to always be bright, knowledgeable, and have all the answers.

But the truth is: no one has all the answers all the time. It’s okay to let the other person be right. And it’s okay not to know.

Letting the other person be right is a very giving gesture. And it saves you tons of mental and emotional energy. It opens up our curiosity and leaves room to learn and grow. Not knowing is one of the fundamental aspects of the Zen concept of Beginner’s Mind.

When I was young, I was embarrassed to say “I don’t know.” Deep down I always had a little place of doubt where I knew there was more for me to learn and more for me to understand than I currently did. So I often let others be “right” about things.

At the time, I saw this as a weakness.

Now I see it as one of the most spiritual and generous stances I could have taken. TZT

WORKSHOP UPDATE:

I was so happy to share my Zen Teacher presentation with the Tehama County Department of Education Teacher Induction program last Wednesday afternoon. What a very fun workshop with a great group of educators. It was a blast, and let me give a special shout out to our excellent moderator, Kim Clawson (pictured below. . .)

These teachers had to attend multiple workshops and comments in the chat of my workshop said “best training yet,” “meaningful and helpful,” and simply “amazing.” I’m truly humbled to think that I’m helping teachers, as they are my heroes.

It’s strange to think, though, that teachers need the message of reducing stress, improving self-care, and avoiding burnout EVEN MORE now than they did when The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom came out over 10 years ago.

If your school, district, or education organization would like to experience this workshop—either in person or virtually—reach out here or email me at teachingzen@gmail.com. And thanks for being here. . .

Simplifying our lives and classrooms can be a critical step in creating a sense of peace, space, and freedom in our lives. Artist Hans Hoffman tells us that, “The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak.”

But how do we eliminate the unnecessary? Here are 30 possibilities and, as Rod Serling used to say on The Twilight Zone, they are submitted for your approval:

1. Slow down the pace of your life.
2. Stop reading this and put down the device.
3. Limit your screen time.
4. Forget that there’s an Internet.
5. Cultivate a desire for less stuff.
6. Have a garage sale.
7. Throw away 10 things today.
8. Throw away 10 things tomorrow.
9. Throw away 10 things for every day thereafter.
10. Choose a surface in your classroom and clean it off.
11. Choose another surface and do the same.
12. Eliminate clutter in general.
13. Follow the 6 month rule (if I haven’t used it in 6 months, it’s gone).
14. If something comes in, something else must go.
15. Learn to say no to requests you don’t want to do or have time for (Yes, it’s hard. Do it, anyway).
16. Check email only a couple times a day (#crazytalk)
17. Reevaluate your sense of what’s “enough.” Make it smaller.
18. Stop watching dumb television.
19. Those clothes in your closet you haven’t worn since The (first) Bush Administration? Toss ‘em.
20. Create “white” space in the room. Clean lines and angles create a sense of openness and space.
21. Give stuff away.
22. Sell stuff. Become a regular at the local pawn shop. (I’m known as “Spike” at mine).
23. Unsubscribe to stupid, useless email chains.
24. Find a place for everything. Put it there. Keep it there.
25. Empty the cupboards in your classroom. Only put back what you use. Toss the rest. That ed. tech book with the wacky, psychedelic font on the cover? Trash it.
26. Limit your classroom storage to a single file cabinet and one cupboard.
27. Insist on white space on both your home and work calendar.
28. Create time for you.
29. If you add an activity, take one out.
30. Create a stop-doing list.

Having less and doing less will reduce your stress and tension and allow you the time and freedom to do things that really matter. By listening to artist Hans Hoffman, we can learn how to make our whole lives into art. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

A group of kids have lunch in my classroom almost every day. Some of them are my students and some are their friends, people I don’t even know. The energy is always loud, fun, and festive. Lunch is also typically a time for make-up tests, extra tutoring, or just coming by to talk to the old man. But constantly being available to students, parents, or colleagues can be draining and can, in the long run, rob me of the ability to do my best.

Remembering to sometimes shut the door helps me remember to be still, be social with my peers or, at the very least, recharge my batteries. On Wednesdays, for example, I have lunch with a colleague in my department. We used to do coffee in the morning, but when our schedules changed, we agreed on lunch once a week.

And on Fridays, I have lunch with another group of teachers. In both cases, we compare notes, share stories, have a few laughs. The kids who eat in my room know my schedule and understand that on those days my door will be shut. So the next time things get a little stressful or tense, remember that it’s okay to give yourself a break, to shut the door.

Good teachers are accessible to their students; they’re open, friendly, and welcoming. But a Zen teacher also understands the importance of The Shut Door.

It takes courage, but you’ll soon realize that, if you occasionally shut the door, you’ll be able to open it again, later, more widely than before. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

Silence is an art we’ve forgotten how to practice.

In the cacophony of the modern world, we’ve become afraid of silence.

We are frightened by stillness and no sound. We are scared of no words. We are unable to not talk.

But we should not only invite silence, we should embrace it.

Silence should be a part of our lives, a part of every single day. We should spend time in the poetic void of silence because once the world (and our minds) quiet down, we can access that deeper place of thought and emotion, peace and empathy.

In silence, we are able to synch ourselves to the rhythmic pulse of the heartbeat of The Universe. Spending time in silence is so incredibly rich, relaxing, and life-affirming–at least for something that totally freaks us out.

This is one of the reasons people are so addicted to their gadgets; our eyes are glued to the glowing blue screens of our devices because of our constant need for something to do, because of our unending thirst for sound, white noise, and distraction.

Quaker philosopher William Penn once said, “True silence is the rest of the mind, and is to the spirit what sleep is to the body, nourishment and refreshment.”

So try nourishing yourself.

Give yourself the gift of silence.

It’s free.

It’s limitless.

And they say it’s golden. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom, which is currently on sale at a ridiculously low price at 59% off!

I opened my email inbox the other day, and two emails immediately caught my eye. One was from business guru, Seth Godin, whose daily blogs never fail to inspire me. Another was from Notes from The Universe, a platform that sends daily encouragements and affirmations.

In a post on kindness, Seth said, “If it’s just the right amount of necessary kindness, it’s not really kindness. It’s pleasantness.”

But pleasantness is different than kindness. How many of us, for example, have settled for pleasantness and called it kindness, especially at school? We smile. We say “good morning.” We hold the door. It costs nothing — and it gives back about as much.

The second quote also resonated:

Sometimes the best way to remain sane, The Notes from The Universe tells us, is to love like crazy.”

These quotes spoke to me because they are in alignment with a philosophy I’ve been developing over the last few years: Be absurdly kind. Not pleasantly kind. Not appropriately kind. Absurdly kind — the kind of kind that makes people look up from their phones, makes a student remember your class ten years later, and makes a colleague feel like a human being on a Tuesday that’s clearly trying to break her.

Furthermore, by not being absurdly kind, we’ve overlooked something powerful: the act of giving generously, joyfully, and outrageously actually puts something back in the tank. Here’s the irony: Being absurdly kind is an absurdly effective form of self-care.

When I write an over-the-top compliment on a student’s essay, for example, I feel it. When I leave a note for a coworker just to say they’re doing a great job, my own stress dips a little. And so on. And beyond the science that corroborates this approach—and there’s plenty of it— there’s something simpler at work: It’s fun.

Absurd kindness is playful. It breaks the monotony of a school day that can sometimes feel like a never-ending loop. It reminds you (and everyone around you) that the work day is allowed to be warmer and more fun than its often default setting of urgency and conflict.

Every moment of real, generous kindness touches someone who then, consciously or not, passes a little of it forward. You may not always be able to trace it, but it happens. And that is an absurdly powerful ripple effect.

And the knowledge that you set it in motion?

That does something for your soul. TZT

Challenge: Share one example of absurd kindness—either given or received—in the comments. Bonus points if you share how it made you feel. I’ll start: One of our school counselors came down from her office yesterday (not a short walk. . .) because she heard I’d had a difficult meeting with a challenging parent, and she wanted to check in on me and see if any further steps needed to be taken to make sure it didn’t happen again.

You can find more about these kinds of topics* in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom, which is currently on sale at a ridiculously low price!

*In fact, I have an entire chapter on kindness in The Zen Teacher.

When you think about creating white space on your calendar and are mindful of not overscheduling, beware of the creep.

Relax. I’m not talking about that weird guy who works at the Hallmark store in the mall where you bought said calendar.

Let me explain.

You’ve decided you want to reduce your obligations, increase your downtime, and enjoy your life a little more. To that end, you’ve created a little space on the calendar.

You’re just looking for a little break, a little respite from the chaos.

You say “no” more often.

You schedule in “me” time.

You fill in fewer boxes.

Great job.

But no matter how open your schedule might be, life is always life-ing, and without fail, unexpected obligations, responsibilities, and events will insist on creeping in and stealing time from your calendar when you least expect it.

Your car will suddenly need new tires.

A family member will come in from out of town and need a place to stay.

Your water heater will explode and need to be replaced.

The Yanni concert will come to town.

You get my drift.

Things you didn’t foresee will creep in and steal your time and fill up those little white boxes on the calendar.

Even when you’ve been diligent about prioritizing for “less.”

Beware the creep.

The best way to deal with the creep—even if you’re already committed to reducing your schedule—is to set in a little buffer or margin that considers the creep and accounts for it.

And that’s in addition to what you’ve already done.

Set aside just a little extra room or time for that unexpected moment.

You may not think you will need it.

But trust me, you will. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom, which is currently on sale at a ridiculously low price!

During my first year or two of teaching, the end of the grading period was always a nightmare.

We always read one book and wrote one essay, but obviously, my students couldn’t write the essay until they had read the book. Consequently, all of the essays came in at the end of the grading period.

So every six weeks that last weekend before grades were due was a 24-hour-bathrobe-no shower-pizza-delivery-kitchen table-full of essays marathon. I sat and graded essays and filled out my Scantron grade sheets—this was before the internet, kids— around the clock for 72 hours. It was miserable and, in a word, unsustainable. I was young and energetic, so I made it happen but I knew something had to change.

But what?

First, I learned how to stagger assignments so that essays came in at different times every grading period for different class levels, but I also had the smaller assignments to contend with, so what to do with those? I frequently carried home plastic shopping bags full of small assignments to grade, especially over spring and winter breaks. For years, I spent some of all of my vacations working. How else was I supposed to get it all done?

Eventually, however, and right around the time I wrote The Zen Teacher, I knew something had to change.

That’s when I made the executive decision that the essays would be the only assignments I would ever grade at home, because they took more of my time and demanded more of my concentration. They simply mattered more. 5-10 a night and I would get there eventually, long before the end of the grading period.

Then, during school hours, I worked in the small assignments whenever I could— during my prep period, while students were reading or working, or even slightly before or after school. I understood that, in teaching, not everything could happen during contract hours, but I was also learning that going full blast until I was running on fumes was also not wise and would send me back to LinkedIn in no time. Plus, I was not being compensated for those endless hours at home, so I gave myself permission to stop.

That system has worked for me now for over 10 years. No more bathrobe, pizza delivery, marathon weekends at the end of the grading period.

As a bonus, I feel like I can breathe again.

Wouldn’t you like to be able to breath again, too?

Of course you would. And it’s time. TZT

Question:

What’s a single shift you can make, right now, that will lighten your load and make your teaching practice more sustainable?

Drop your answer in the comments.

Hello,

A quick re-introduction might be in order. . .

My name is Dan Tricarico, and I’m the author of The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom. At some point, you signed up for my email newsletter where I write about how educators can reduce stress, improve self-care, and avoid burnout.

Last summer, I invited my email list to join me here on Substack. Some came along, and it only took me another eight months or so to finally get the rest of you over.

So—welcome. I’m really glad you made it.

(If this space ever stops being helpful, you can always unsubscribe. I’ll be sorry to see you go, but I totally understand. . .).

If you do stick around, you can expect something simple: weekly-ish reflections on the stressors teachers face, and a few thoughts on how to meet them with a greater sense of peace and clarity.

I’ll write about things like gratitude, mindfulness, non-judgment, acceptance, and real self-care—not just lip service self-care, but the kind that actually fits into a teacher’s life and helps them cope.

I’ve been a high school English teacher for over 30 years now, and I still feel those same pressures. The long days. The emotional weight. The sense that there’s always more to do.

When I first wrote The Zen Teacher, I was right in the middle of that—stretched thin, stressed out, and trying to figure out how to keep showing up without running myself into the ground.

What I found were small shifts. Nothing dramatic. Just ways of thinking and being that made the work feel a little lighter. A little more sustainable.

In other words, I use these strategies myself. And they work.

Over time, other teachers told me the same thing—that these ideas helped them breathe a bit easier and feel more like themselves again.

And what I realized recently is that we need these tools now more than ever.

So I hope this newsletter serves you in both your classroom and your life.

Again, I’m glad you’re here.

Thanks for listening.

See you next week!

Peace and love,

Dan Tricarico

P.S. If you ever have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out to me by replying to these emails or commenting on my Substack “notes.” You can also email me at teachingzen@gmail.com.

P.P.S. Feel free to check out the archive for my previous posts/newsletters.

1. Embrace Acceptance. The failure to meet the artificial expectations we’re white-knuckling is the origin of almost all suffering. Detaching from expectations and accepting the moment as it is increases our possibility of happiness. The moment isn’t good or bad, it just is.

2. Experience Non-judgment. Similarly, we can save much energy (and increase our sense of joy) by turning off the judging mechanism in our minds and just let things be.

3. Help Someone. A student. A new teacher. A veteran teacher. A custodian. A secretary. A cafeteria worker. Serving others is like Crack for the soul.

4. Practice Non-Doing. Find time during the day for silence and stillness. A quiet mind is a fertile mind.

5. Make a goal. Always have something to shoot for–a new unit, a new approach, a new skill, or a new vision. Looking forward gives us hope and hope makes us happy.

6. Access Your Passion. Remember what made you want to be a teacher in the first place. Then spend as much time there as you can.

7. Say No. Save your energy, passion, and emotion for the things that matter. Don’t use yourself up on drivel. Wait for what moves you. Ignore everything (or most everything) else.

8. Value Mentoring. Find a mentor. Be a mentor. That way, everyone learns.

9. Work Together. Not in the endless, useless “collaboration” meetings that all teachers must endure, but in the cafeteria, in the hallway, at lunch, during happy hours, via voicemails and emails, in between the stalls in the rest room. This is where the important work is done.

10. Forgive. Your students. Your administration. Your peers. Your bank account.
But mostly, yourself. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom. It is currently on sale for a RIDICULOUSLY low price.

59% off!

Grab it soon!

About ten years ago, I wrote a book called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom.

So you would think that, by now, I’ve learned to be pretty Zen in the classroom.

And for the most part, that’s true.

But the other day, my ninth graders had a body paragraph due, and I asked them to hold up the rough drafts of the paragraph so I could eyeball them and check their progress.

In one class of 33 students, only four people had completed it.

Four.

I was furious at the lack of work ethic and the waste of their time.

I gave them a very heated sermon and gave them yet more time to finish up.

When I saw a group of three or four students still just sitting there and gabbing with only one or two sentences of their paragraph completed, I completely lost it, and I raised my voice.

“START WRITING!!” I yelled.

I wasn’t proud of myself and asked my co-teacher if I could take a moment outside and she said yes. In other words, I gave myself a timeout.

It doesn’t happen often and after thirty-three years in the classroom, I know that sometimes we lose it. It happens. It’s part of the job and it’s part of what makes us human.

But it’s also true that someone who wrote a book called The Zen Teacher should hold himself to a higher standard.

But there is also this funny little thing called Grace. And sometimes we need to give that grace to ourselves.

I have since forgiven myself, but I was the one who learned an important lesson (really, a reminder) that day.

The best classroom strategy is when everyone’s nervous system is regulated.

First yours.

Then theirs. TZT

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom. It is currently on sale for a RIDICULOUSLY low price.

59% off!

Grab it soon!

Almost every Saturday morning I take a leisurely walk down to the local convenience store for a hot chocolate.

It’s peaceful, meditative, and totally Zen.

And as a bonus—hot chocolate!

As a way to increase my sense of Mindfulness, I am also fond of taking photos along the way, as photography is one of my favorite hobbies.

Please see some examples of these photos below.

The funny thing is that even though I take basically the same route every time I do my Saturday morning hot chocolate walk, there are always new things to see, experience, and snap.

And even if I take photos of the same thing, it’s always different because of the time of day, the lighting, the angles, the cars passing by, or the creatures big and small who have changed the terrain in some way.

We ALL have these magical devices in our pockets or purses and if we want a more Mindful experience, why not bust them out and snap a few things we notice?

That’s my challenge for you today**.

We live in a miraculous world of sights and sounds and tastes and touches and smells, and whenever I pay attention to that, I’m much happier. TZT

P.S. Forgive the self-indulgence, but I’ve included a few selfies I took on the walk. You don’t see the hot chocolate because I leaned my camera up against the cup and used the camera’s timer.

**I’d love to see your photos! I’m still learning Substack, so I don’t know if you can share photos in the comments on a Substack article, but for those smarter than I am, if you can figure it out, I’d love to see what you noticed. Don’t worry about great photography, just share what’s in your world.

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom. It is currently on sale for a RIDICULOUSLY low price.

59% off!

Grab it soon!

Sometimes it helps to revisit why you’re doing what you’re doing.

It’s often important to take a step back, check in, and see if the mission is still relevant.

In my case, it is.

Lately, I’ve been revisiting why I started The Zen Teacher platform. And I realized that even though talking about how teachers could reduce stress, improve self-care, and avoid burnout was critical when the book came out over 10 years ago, I think in 2026, teachers need to hear this message more than ever—especially in a profession that does not (and never has) supported these pursuits. In other words, it turns out that taking care of you is up to you.

And I want to help.

So today, I thought I’d share the last paragraph of the introduction to my book The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom*.

It’s a chance for me to revisit my mission and a chance for you to see if it resonates.

The introduction to the book begins with an old Zen saying, “The goal is the path.”

At the end of the intro, I write:

Teachers do incredibly important and influential work—and they do it almost entirely devoid of the concrete, culturally valued rewards associated with professional employment, such as the big paycheck, the luxury car, or the corner office with the stunning view. Despite the limited tangible rewards, there is, perhaps, no career as fulfilling to the soul as education. This noble profession can provide a deep sense of Zen tranquility because we know that the ripples we create today can influence and even improve tomorrow. The path we travel day in and day out with our students—and the manner in which we travel—is important, and if the goal is the path, then it helps to love the path.

This passage discusses why we teach. It’s why we do what we do.

But it also hints at the obstacles and challenges that we, as educators, are up against.

And I do what I do so that you can continue what you’re doing.

In the face of those challenges and despite those obstacles.

So please join me here as I continue to share tools, strategies, and approaches that will make your teaching practice sustainable.

We need you.

Let me help you walk (and hopefully love) the path*. TZT

*And if you’ve read the book, it would mean so much to me if you would jot a quick and honest review on the Amazon page. That helps authors like me.

**Feel free to share this email, my book, or these ideas with any teacher friends. . .

You can find more about these kinds of topics in my book written especially for teachers called The Zen Teacher: Creating Focus, Simplicity, and Tranquility in the Classroom. It is currently on sale for a RIDICULOUSLY low price.

59% off!

Grab it soon!

Most teachers don’t burn out from a single bad day.

They burn out from a thousand moments of never stopping.

Enter: A B.A.S.I.C. Exercise in Mindfulness

I created this technique for my book Sanctuaries: Self-Care Secrets for Stressed Out Teachers because teachers need an immediate go-to strategy when things get stressful and also because education simply does not have enough acronyms.

When you’re feeling at your wit’s end, try this:

B = Breath

Before you decide what to do next—breathe.

Teaching trains us to rush past our bodies, but a few slow, soothing breaths remind your nervous system: You are safe right now.

You don’t need more time—you need a pause.

A = Acknowledgement

Once you breathe, acknowledge what’s happening.

But acknowledge it without judgment.

“I’m exhausted.” “I’m overwhelmed.” “This is harder than I expected.”

That kind of thing.

Where you are isn’t good or bad; it just is.

S = Stillness

Next, create some stillness. Go into a quiet room. Close your eyes and meditate for a few minutes. Create silence in a way that allows you to think more clearly.

For those of you saying, “If I had time to do that, I wouldn’t be so stressed!” I would argue that this step only takes a minute and there’ll be plenty of stress left for you to “enjoy” when you’re done.

It’s only when you feel stillness that you can truly listen to that little voice inside that will guide you.

I = Intuition

In your silence and stillness, listen to your intuition.

Teachers are deeply intuitive—we just don’t always trust ourselves when the message applies to us. Do I need to drop that class? Take a nap? Move grade levels? Dump the loser boyfriend? (Extreme, I admit, but you get my point.).

We need to listen to that small inner voice that says, “This isn’t sustainable.”

Your intuition wants what’s best for you and it’s almost always right. But you have to get still and listen for it to speak. Intuition never screams; it whispers.

C = Compassion (for yourself and others)

Ask this question: “Who needs my compassion?”

There are two critical places to aim your compassion:

Others. If you recognize that another person is also struggling, giving them compassion creates empathy. You can give them mercy and grace. And that’s an amazing practice. Magically, the more profound your compassion for others, the more you learn to give it to yourself.

Ourself. We often give compassion freely to students. We offer it to colleagues. But we probably ration it when it comes to ourselves, if we think of it at all.

Self-compassion isn’t letting yourself off the hook. It’s recognizing that you are human inside a profession that often asks you to act like you’re not. When compassion starts with you, it naturally extends outward—with more patience, clarity, and steadiness.

Remember: “A B.A.S.I.C. Exercise in Mindfulness” isn’t another task on your list.

It’s a way of relating differently to your life and work. TZT