When a school district wants to show it cares about teacher well-being, it usually points to an employee assistance program: a phone number, a few free counseling sessions, a flyer in the staff lounge. I understand why. It is affordable and easy to explain. But in my work as a therapist with people in high-responsibility jobs, I have seen what happens when a hotline is the whole plan. People do not call.
Idaho should not assume its teachers are the exception.
Teachers are under unusual strain. RAND’s 2024 State of the American Teacher survey found that about twice as many teachers as comparable working adults reported frequent job-related stress or burnout, and roughly three times as many said they had difficulty coping with it. Teachers reported working about 53 hours a week, nine more than comparable workers.
Idaho has held on to most of its teachers so far. State Board of Education data reported by this publication in 2023 showed the retention rate slipping to 89.5% in 2022, which still meant roughly one in ten of the state’s approximately 19,000 teachers did not return to their positions. Every one of those departures costs a district recruiting time, training time and continuity for students.
The harder problem is what happens before a teacher leaves. Burnout is not a mood. The World Health Organization defines it as a syndrome of exhaustion, growing cynicism about the job and reduced effectiveness, caused by chronic workplace stress that has not been managed. By the time a teacher is cynical, the students already feel it.
So why not just use the EAP? In small districts, the barriers are practical and social. A teacher in a town where everyone knows everyone worries about being seen. She may not know whether her principal will find out. Three to six sessions are rarely enough for burnout that took years to build. And the counselor on the other end of the line may have a long wait list, or may not be available at 7 p.m., the only hour a teacher with her own children has free.
Access is also thin. According to KFF’s analysis of federal Health Resources and Services Administration data, about 1.27 million Idahoans, more than six in 10 residents, live in a designated mental health professional shortage area. A hotline cannot create therapists who do not exist in a teacher’s county.
Districts and the state can do better without building anything new:
Tell teachers exactly what stays private. Most will not use a benefit they do not trust. A one-page explanation of what the EAP shares, what insurance claims contain and what the district never sees would remove much of the fear.
Cover real therapy, including telehealth. Idaho joined the Psychology Interjurisdictional Compact in 2022, which lets licensed psychologists from other member states provide telehealth to Idahoans. Plans that cover telehealth sessions and longer courses of care give rural teachers options their own counties cannot.
Make time count. Protected planning periods and limits on after-hours email are not luxuries. They are the conditions under which a teacher can recover enough to stay.
Train principals to notice. The teacher who stops eating lunch with colleagues or snaps at a class she used to love is signaling something. A principal who can name what he sees and point to private help, without making it a performance issue, can change the outcome.
Idaho’s teachers have shown they will stay through a great deal. The state should not test how much more. A phone number is a start. Confidential, reachable care is the plan.
Martha Fernandez is a licensed clinical social worker and co-founder of CEREVITY, a private-pay network of independent licensed clinicians offering confidential online therapy for professionals.
