Teacher Shortages Aren’t Just About Hiring. They’re About Hope.
by Nate Eklund
In schools across the country, the signs of a staff shortage are sometimes easy to miss. And for better or worse, the shortages can also sometimes go unnoticed because the work still gets done.
Maybe it’s a science teacher covering an algebra class, or a counselor filling in for lunch duty. It might be a resource para leading classroom instruction because there’s no sub (again), pulling them from the students who require their full attention.
A “shortage” isn’t just an empty job posting. It’s a sign of how much we’re asking from the people who persist when a district is understaffed, and how much potential there is to build systems that support the people within them.
According to the Learning Policy Institute, more than 411,000 teaching positions in the U.S. are either vacant or filled by someone not fully certified. That’s one in eight classrooms. Behind each vacancy sits a team that’s carrying more than it can hold.
Districts work hard to fill the gaps, from job fairs to referral bonuses and creative recruiting efforts, but aggressive hiring can’t be the only answer when the bucket itself keeps leaking.
Recent research also shows that retention isn’t driven by pay alone. A 2024 review titled "Leadership for Teacher Retention" found that when principals build trust, listen to staff, and give teachers more control over their work, turnover rates drop sharply. Other studies echo the same message: when people feel heard and see that their effort leads to progress, they’re far more likely to stay.
Therefore, it’s not just a morale or salary issue, it’s a design issue about how we build systems that improve the daily experiences of educators.
When a teacher leaves the classroom, the story is always personal. Educators don’t simply “walk away” from this profession. Burnout, family needs, or a new opportunity might be part of it, but people also leave when the system around them makes it too hard to stay.
Schools that retain teachers intentionally build daily routines and workplace practices that help educators thrive. They create space to breathe, find balance, and channel their energy toward students rather than simply getting through the day.
We often frame the teacher shortage in quantitative terms. Yet beneath those metrics lies a human dimension: a shortage of hope that can’t be measured but profoundly shapes retention.
Hope, in this sense, isn’t simply optimism. It’s about the evidence people see that they are contributing to a system they believe in, and that their place in the overall design of that system has purpose and value.
Hope isn’t soft. It isn’t baked in the “We did it!” donuts in the workroom. It’s forged in the daily proof that effort matters and progress is possible. Is it the tempered and intense belief that things can and will get better.
Therefore, strong workplace practices don’t just support retention because they make teaching a job people want to keep, not one they can’t wait to leave.