The February Crisis: Finding Evidence That Teaching Still Matters

You're sitting at your kitchen table staring at a stack of ungraded papers. You're exhausted. You've been exhausted for weeks.

And the thought hits you: Does any of this actually matter?

You're working yourself to the bone. You're giving everything you have. And for what? Half your students weren't paying attention today. The lesson you spent an hour planning fell flat. You sent three emails to a parent who still hasn't responded. You stayed late to help a struggling student and they didn't show up.

You're starting to wonder if you're making any difference at all. If you left tomorrow, would anyone even notice?

This is the February crisis. And it's real.

Here's what actually helps.

The Challenge: February Makes You Question Everything

February is the month when teachers question their purpose.

Not because you don't care. Because you're depleted, and depletion makes it hard to see meaning in anything.

In September, you could see your impact. Students were learning your name, learning the routines, building relationships with you. Progress was visible.

In December, you had holidays and breaks to look forward to. The countdown created momentum.

But February? February has no visible progress markers. No clear evidence of impact. No momentum. Just day after day of teaching in the cold and dark with students who seem as checked out as you feel.

Your brain starts asking questions:

• Am I actually making a difference?
• Would these kids be fine without me?
• Is all this effort worth it?
• Am I just going through the motions?
• Should I even keep doing this?

These aren't signs of weakness. They're signs of February.

The psychological reality: When we’re depleted, our brains default to negativity bias—we notice threats and problems more readily than positives and successes. This is an evolutionary survival mechanism. But it means that in February, when you're running on empty, your brain is actively filtering out evidence that your work matters and amplifying evidence that it doesn't.

You're not seeing clearly. You're seeing through a fog of exhaustion and stress.

Most teachers respond to the February crisis in one of two ways:

Response #1: Push through and ignore it. Tell yourself you're being dramatic. You chose this profession. You should be tougher. Power through. Don't admit you're struggling, even to yourself. Arrive at March either broken or numb.

Response #2: Spiral into hopelessness. Let the questions consume you. Spend evenings scrolling job boards. Fantasize about quitting. Tell yourself teaching was a mistake. Lose sight of why you started.

There's a third way. Actively collect evidence that contradicts what your depleted brain is telling you.

The Strategy: The "Evidence of Mattering" Practice

When your brain is telling you nothing matters, you need external evidence to counter it.

Not toxic positivity. Not pretending everything is fine. Just: actual data that proves your work had impact today, even if you can't feel it.

Step 1: Define "Mattering" Broadly

The February crisis makes you think "mattering" means life-changing impact. Grand moments. Breakthroughs. Students thanking you for changing their lives.

That's not the standard.

Mattering can be:

• A student understood a concept they didn't understand before
• You stayed calm when you wanted to lose it
• A lesson worked (even if it wasn't brilliant)
• A kid smiled
• You showed up even though you didn't want to

The standard isn't "Did I change lives today?" The standard is "Did something happen today that wouldn't have happened if I wasn't here?"

The answer is always yes. You just have to notice it.

Step 2: Collect Evidence Daily

For one week (minimum), write down every piece of evidence—no matter how small—that your work mattered today.

End-of-day reflection: "What's one thing that wouldn't have happened if I wasn't there today?"

Write it down. Physical paper or a note on your phone. Doesn't matter. Just externalize it.

Examples of evidence:

• "Jasmine finally understood fractions"
• "I noticed Marcus was struggling and checked in with him"
• "The class discussion actually went somewhere today"
• "I stayed patient during the chaos"
• "Emma asked me a question, which means she trusts me enough to ask"
• "We got through a lesson I was dreading and it was fine"
• "I didn't yell even though I wanted to"
• "The kid who never participates raised their hand"

Not profound. Not life-changing. Just: evidence.

By Friday, you'll have a list. Five pieces of evidence. Proof that you mattered this week.

Step 3: Notice What Your Brain Tried to Ignore

Here's what makes this practice powerful: When you force yourself to find one piece of evidence daily, you'll notice how much your brain was actively filtering out.

"Oh, three students got that concept today. I didn't even register that because I was focused on the two who didn't."

"That student did thank me for helping. I forgot about it immediately because I was stressed about the next thing."

"The lesson wasn't terrible. It was actually okay. I just decided it was terrible because I'm exhausted."

Your brain in February is lying to you. The evidence practice reveals the lie.

Step 4: Separate Effort From Impact

Sometimes the February crisis comes from conflating "I'm working really hard" with "Is my work making a difference?"

You can work extremely hard and still make a difference. The effort isn't wasted just because it's hard.

Evidence of impact isn't always proportional to effort. Sometimes you plan for an hour and the lesson falls flat. Sometimes you wing a lesson and it's brilliant.

What matters is not "Did my effort produce the outcome I wanted?" but "Did something of value happen because I was here?"

The answer is almost always yes, even when the effort feels disproportionate.

Step 5: Share the Evidence (If It Helps)

Some teachers find it helpful to share their evidence list with someone who gets it. A colleague. A partner. A friend who teaches.

Not for validation. Just for accountability to keep noticing.

"Here's what mattered this week: [list]. What mattered for you?"

Sharing makes the evidence feel more real. It also reminds you that you're not alone in the February struggle.

Why This Works

The Research:

Cognitive psychology research on attention and perception shows that humans see what they're looking for. This is called "attentional bias." When you're depleted and stressed, your brain looks for threats and problems. It filters out positive information because that's not seen as survival-relevant.

The evidence practice forces a shift in attentional bias. By deliberately looking for evidence of mattering, you retrain your brain to notice what it was filtering out.

Research on depression and rumination (particularly work by Susan Nolen-Hoeksema) demonstrates that negative thought spirals are self-reinforcing. The more you focus on "nothing matters," the more your brain finds evidence supporting that belief. Breaking the spiral requires active intervention—deliberately focusing on counter-evidence.

Gratitude research (Robert Emmons and colleagues) shows that writing down specific positive events activates brain regions associated with reward and reduces rumination. The evidence practice is similar: you're externalizing specific moments of impact, which interrupts the negative spiral.

The Philosophy:

This is Stoic practice of distinguishing between perception and reality.

Your perception in February is "Nothing I do matters." But is that true? Or is that your depleted brain's interpretation?

The evidence practice forces you to look at reality: What actually happened today? Not what I feel about what happened. What objectively occurred?

When you separate feeling from fact, the picture changes.

Marcus Aurelius wrote: "Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact. Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth." Your February brain is offering an opinion ("This doesn't matter"). The evidence practice reveals the facts ("A student learned something today because I taught it").

How It Looks in Practice

Mr. Stevens, 5th Grade

Mr. Stevens hit a wall in mid-February. He'd been teaching for 12 years. He knew February was hard. But this year felt different. He was genuinely questioning whether he should keep teaching.

He started the evidence practice reluctantly. "This feels like forced positivity and I hate forced positivity."

Day 1: "What mattered today? Uh... I showed up. That's it."

But he kept going because he'd committed to a week.

Day 2: "Maya finally got long division. She's been struggling for two weeks. Today it clicked."

Day 3: "I stayed calm when Jayden had a meltdown. Old me would've escalated. Today I didn't."

Day 4: "Class discussion about the book was actually good. Students were listening to each other."

Day 5: "Two students asked to stay in at recess to finish their project. They were actually engaged."

By Friday, he had five pieces of evidence. Not earth-shattering. Just: things that happened because he was there.

He kept the practice going for the rest of February. Some days the evidence was small ("No one cried today"). Some days it was bigger ("That lesson I dreaded actually worked").

By March, he wasn't cured of the crisis. But he had data. Real data. That his work was making a difference, even when he couldn't feel it.

He didn't quit. He made it to June. He's still teaching.

Ms. Jackson, High School Math

Ms. Jackson was drowning in February. She taught 150 students across five classes. She was grading for hours every night. She felt invisible—just a content-delivery machine.

She started the evidence practice focused on individual students.

Day 1: "What mattered? I noticed that Aisha was struggling and offered her extra help. She said yes."

Day 2: "David actually participated in class for the first time all month. I called on him and he had a thoughtful answer."

Day 3: "The test review activity I planned worked. Students were actually reviewing instead of just sitting there."

Day 4: "A student emailed me to say thanks for the feedback on their assignment. I almost deleted it without reading it because I get so many emails. Glad I didn't."

Day 5: "I left school by 4:30 today. That's evidence that I can set a boundary and the world doesn't end."

She realized her evidence wasn't always about academic impact. Sometimes it was about relationships. Sometimes it was about her own sustainability.

All of it mattered. All of it was proof she wasn't just going through motions.

By late February, she had a list of 20+ pieces of evidence. When the crisis thoughts returned ("Does any of this matter?"), she'd read the list.

"Yes. It matters. Here's proof."

Dr. Martinez, Middle School Science

Dr. Martinez was in her second year of teaching. February hit hard. She started questioning whether she'd made a terrible career choice.

"Maybe I'm not cut out for this. Maybe I should've stayed in research."

She started the evidence practice focusing on "things I did well today."

Day 1: "I explained photosynthesis in a way that made sense. Three students said 'Oh!' when it clicked."

Day 2: "I didn't take it personally when Liam was rude. I stayed professional."

Day 3: "My lab setup was organized and students could find everything. That saved 10 minutes of chaos."

Day 4: "I asked Miguel if he was okay because he seemed off. He told me his grandma died. If I hadn't asked, I wouldn't have known."

Day 5: "My test questions were clear. Students didn't ask a million clarifying questions, which means I wrote them well."

She realized she was actually competent at teaching. Her brain in February was telling her she was failing. The evidence showed otherwise.

She kept the practice through the rest of the year. It became her touchstone when impostor syndrome hit.

"Am I actually good at this? Let me check the evidence. Yes. Here's proof."

Troubleshooting

"What if I genuinely can't find evidence some days?"

That's incredibly rare. If you showed up and taught, something of value happened.

But if you really can't find anything: "I showed up even though I didn't want to. That's evidence of commitment."

Showing up counts.

"This feels like toxic positivity."

It's not. You're not pretending everything is fine. You're not forcing gratitude for things that are genuinely hard.

You're countering your brain's negativity bias with actual data. That's different from toxic positivity.

"What if the evidence I find is really small and feels insignificant?"

Small evidence is still evidence. One student understanding one concept is significant. You staying calm one time is significant.

The February crisis makes you think only grand impact matters. That's the lie. Small impact is still impact.

"What if this practice makes me feel worse because I realize how little I'm accomplishing?"

If that happens, you're not actually doing the practice correctly. You're still filtering through negativity bias.

The practice is: "What's ONE thing that wouldn't have happened if I wasn't here?" Not "Did I accomplish everything I hoped?" One thing. That's the bar.

"What if I'm genuinely in the wrong profession and this is just denial?"

The evidence practice isn't about forcing yourself to stay in a job that's destroying you.

If you do the practice for two weeks and genuinely find no evidence of impact, that's important information. Maybe you are in the wrong role.

But do the practice first. Because most of the time, the problem isn't "I'm in the wrong job." It's "February is making me believe I'm in the wrong job."

Try It This Week

Here's your starting point:

Monday-Friday: End each day by writing down ONE piece of evidence that your work mattered today.

Just one. Can be tiny. Write it down.

Saturday: Read the list. You have five pieces of evidence from this week.

Sunday: Decide. Did this practice help? Do you want to keep doing it?

You're not committing to this forever. You're committing to one week of noticing evidence instead of only noticing problems.

Start there.

Your Brain Is Lying to You in February

The system tells you that good teachers never question their purpose. That if you're doubting whether teaching matters, you're not cut out for this.

The system is gaslighting you.

February makes everyone question everything. The cold, the dark, the exhaustion, the lack of visible progress—it's designed to make you feel like nothing matters.

But your feelings are not facts.

The fact is: You showed up. You taught. Something happened today because you were there. That's evidence.

When your depleted brain tells you nothing matters, counter it with data. Not feelings. Data.

One piece of evidence per day. By the end of the week, you'll have proof.

Not that teaching is easy. Not that February isn't hard. Just that your work matters, even when you can't feel it.

The "Evidence of Mattering" practice is one of many tools inside The STRONG Teacher's Lounge for navigating the February crisis and maintaining purpose even in the hardest months.

Inside the Lounge, you'll find:

• Month-by-month frameworks for sustainable teaching
• Philosophical grounding for when teaching feels meaningless
• Practical strategies for surviving February (and March, and April...)
• A community of teachers who understand the crisis and are figuring out how to keep going

The system is broken. But you're not. And your work matters more than your exhausted February brain wants you to believe.

Join The STRONG Teacher's Lounge →