As a teacher you are more or less obliged to pay the same amount

The words of Marilyn Hacker—“As a teacher you are more or less obliged to pay the same amount of attention to everything. That can wear you down”—speak with quiet authority of the burdens borne by those who guide, nurture, and illuminate. Here, the teacher is portrayed not only as a source of knowledge, but as a steward of many lives, each demanding care, each deserving attention. The obligation to distribute focus evenly, to honor each mind and soul equally, is noble, yet it exacts a toll. The labor of attention is both the gift and the weight of teaching.

The meaning of this reflection lies in the recognition of the relentless demands of responsibility. A teacher’s work is not a solitary craft; it is a tapestry of countless threads—students, lessons, questions, and doubts. Each thread requires careful tending, and the very virtue of impartiality, the effort to give equal energy to every task and every learner, can become exhausting. Hacker illuminates the quiet paradox: the devotion that nurtures others may, over time, erode the spirit if not tempered with care for oneself.

History offers many examples of this challenge. Consider Socrates, who wandered the streets of Athens, teaching all who would listen. He gave equal attention to rich and poor, the young and old, the eager and skeptical. Yet such devotion took its toll, ultimately leaving him vulnerable to the condemnation of those who feared his wisdom. Even the wisest must contend with the fatigue of tending countless minds while maintaining their own inner balance. Hacker’s observation echoes this timeless truth: to serve others is to carry a weight both sacred and burdensome.

Similarly, the life of Maria Montessori illustrates the effort and strain inherent in equitable attention. She observed countless children, ensuring that each received the guidance necessary to flourish, regardless of ability or background. Her methods demanded extraordinary patience, as she measured her attention not by preference but by need. Even as she revolutionized education, the work of constant impartial focus was exhausting, revealing the duality Hacker describes: the same qualities that make a teacher great can also wear them down.

The lesson, O seekers of wisdom, is that attention is a finite treasure. A teacher’s commitment to fairness, to honoring each mind, must be accompanied by self-care, reflection, and resilience. The obligation to distribute energy evenly is not a call to martyrdom, but a reminder that the art of teaching requires both discipline and balance. Fatigue is natural, yet it can be mitigated by awareness, by preparation, and by the cultivation of sustainable practices that protect the spirit as well as serve the students.

Practically, this means establishing boundaries, routines, and methods to manage the relentless flow of demands. Prioritize rest and renewal alongside duty. Seek counsel and collaboration with peers, sharing the weight of teaching where possible. Recognize the signs of weariness and address them with the same care that is given to students. By tending to oneself, a teacher preserves the clarity, compassion, and energy necessary to sustain impartial and effective guidance.

Thus let it be inscribed upon the scrolls of remembrance: to teach is to commit the soul to the service of many, but one must never forget that the teacher is also human. Marilyn Hacker’s words are both caution and counsel: equitable attention is a noble endeavor, but one must honor the limits of endurance. By balancing devotion to others with care for oneself, the teacher ensures that the light of guidance remains bright, steady, and enduring.