Between AI, Behaviour, and Burnout: Why I’m Pressing Pause on the Maths Teaching Path
The 10kg Wake-Up Call
Well, I’m about to lug my 10kg stash of Year 7 to 10 mathematics books back to the opportunity shop.
Why?
Because after nine days in a government program designed to bring teachers back to the classroom, I’ve had a bit of a wake-up call.
Behaviour Management: My Achilles’ Heel
I am galaxies away from being able to manage student behaviour.
Some of what I saw directed at me — or heard from other teachers — made me realise something important: I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I could be physically or psychologically harmed … again.
The Realities of Relief Teaching
Yep, I’ve been out of classroom teaching for more than two years, but the niggle of wanting to teach drew me back.
I think I’ve retreated to safety … for now.
And let’s be honest — teaching doesn’t pay me enough to justify that risk.
Now sure, if I had a permanent teaching job — part-time or full-time — I’d have the chance to build relationships with students, establish clear rules, and work with the school’s behaviour management systems.
But I’m not after permanency.
Why Maths? Why Now?
Teaching has always been, and will likely remain, a side hustle.
A fallback gig.
Teaching for me will always be relief, casual, substitute, or temporary.
A safety net if artificial intelligence ever eats into my main income from freelance writing, business English coaching, and as a neophyte academic researcher.
If I ever do dust off the shingle as a teacher again, it won’t be as a primary school teacher. It’ll be as an out-of-field maths teacher. That’s the direction I’ve chosen — and my bowerbird-like journey of collecting shiny insights continues.
Becoming a Bowerbird of Maths Knowledge
I really do feel like a bowerbird some days — picking up glints of understanding here, scraps of strategy there.
The microcredential I’m doing is one such glint.
Right now, I’m deep into a free course on out-of-field maths teaching, run by Charles Sturt University. It’s fully online, part time, runs from March to October, and I was lucky enough to get a funded spot.
A Parent Presentation — and a Moment of Doubt
This week, I’ve been working on a mock 15-minute PowerPoint presentation as if I were presenting to Year 7 parents.
Each week, fellow microcred students and I meet online to explore pedagogy, tackle problems, and reflect on theory and practice.
In one session, I shared a story about trying to help a Year 7 student struggling with her times tables.
I suggested YouTube songs, putting up visual prompts at home, even recording and replaying her voice reciting them. She was sitting apart from the class, clearly upset that she couldn’t remember them.
I tried appealing to her future: “There are so many new shopping centres being built around here. You’ll have great chances to work in retail, but you’ll need solid maths skills to succeed. Would you like to work in those shops?”
She said yes and went back to her rote learning. But as I moved away to check on other students, I was left wondering — had I really helped?
Later, when I shared that anecdote in our session, another participant gently challenged me. She pointed out that some students — especially those who are neurodiverse or have learning difficulties — may never master the times tables by rote. What they need are access strategies, not repetition. It’s about making conceptual understanding more accessible.
This piqued my interest, so I’ve been researching this online to get deeply into this rabbit warren.
What Are Access Strategies?
Access strategies are tools that give students a way into the maths, especially if traditional memorisation doesn’t work for them. Instead of focusing on recall, these strategies help students see the relationships between numbers, build flexible thinking, and grow confidence.
For example, some students respond well to arrays or area models — drawing or building 6 rows of 7 to see what multiplication means. Others benefit from skip counting on a number line, or using known facts to build up to unknowns — like using 5 × 7 to figure out 6 × 7 by adding another 7.
Then there’s the Concrete–Pictorial–Abstract approach, where learners begin with hands-on objects like counters or blocks, move on to drawing their ideas, and only later connect that to symbols or equations. This step-by-step method is backed by research and used in programs like Singapore Maths.
Number talks are another great one — short, student-led discussions about different ways to solve a problem. These talks help normalise struggle and show that there’s often more than one way to reach a solution.
Even letting students use multiplication charts as learning tools, not just testing tools, helps them spot patterns and take control of their learning. It’s not about giving them a crutch — it’s giving them access.
All that learning floored me.
This is what differentiation really means in maths.
Learning to Speak ‘Maths’
Teaching out-of-field maths isn’t just about learning content or pedagogy. There’s a third layer: learning how to speak mathematics.
Back in February and March, I sat in on Year 7 to 9 maths classes.
I watched a maths coach from Love Maths use games to get students thinking and speaking mathematically. The language and confidence she encouraged were impressive.
But when the regular teacher took over and I returned to my role of classroom support — floating between desks — I had a different experience. I understood the content. I’d done the same problems as the students, at the same time. But when I crouched down beside a student and tried to prompt their thinking, my questions fell flat. I couldn’t draw out their understanding. I wasn’t speaking ‘maths’ in a way that landed.
That was disheartening. I didn’t want to just show them how to do it — I wanted to help them think. But in the moment, I couldn’t find the words.
My notebook is full of prompts, but I couldn’t access them on the fly. Here are 10 I want to keep practising until they come naturally:
10 Questions to Elicit Mathematical Thinking
My notebook is full of prompts, but I couldn’t access them on the fly. Here are the 10 I want to practise until they become muscle memory:
- Can you tell me what you’ve done so far?
- What do you notice about the numbers/shapes/patterns here?
- Why did you choose to do it that way?
- What would happen if we changed this number/value?
- Is there another way you could solve this?
- Can you explain this part to me like I’ve never seen it before?
- What’s the tricky bit here for you?
- If this were a real-life situation, where might it happen?
- What do you think the next step might be?
- Can you teach this to your partner or to me?
Now, if only I could memorise these so I can call on them like muscle memory.
From Coaching English to Coaching Maths
It struck me that in my work as a business English coach, I teach people how to sound confident in English in professional settings .
And here I am, trying to sound confident in maths.
It’s the same principle: fluency comes from exposure, feedback, and safe spaces to stumble.
Defining Success as an Out-of-Field Teacher
This ties into what I’m researching in my PhD — how out-of-field teachers define success. As I share this with you, I realise how much my own struggles with learning maths and building confidence relate to that question.
What does success even look like in this messy middle ground?
Maybe, right now, success just means sitting with the discomfort. Not giving up. Staying curious.
It’s not necessarily about strong student learning outcomes, glowing feedback from school leaders, or getting a contract. It’s about showing up, even when you don’t feel ready.
Teaching as a Fallback — and a Future?
This paid teaching placement gave me déjà vu. If I return to the classroom, will it be the same patchwork of out-of-field roles? Where I’m there to ‘babysit’, not teach?
That’s what pushed me to choose maths in the first place — to specialise, to gain confidence, to have a clearer teacher identity.
But right now, I’m not sure it’s going to work — at least, not soon.
How much more time, money, and energy will it take to be considered a ‘good hire’?
And even then, will I actually get assigned to maths classes?
Or will I be slotted back into a hodgepodge of subjects again?
Especially when teaching is my fallback option if AI disrupts my main income streams.
Even with a PhD by 2028, will there be enough paid opportunities in academia or industry for me to count on?
The Shingle Stays — for Now
So, I’ll keep the hope of having a maths shingle alive — just in case.
I’ll take baby steps in my scraps of free time to bring more maths into my life and thinking.
What Makes a ‘Real’ Maths Teacher?
Even if I never become a ‘real’ maths teacher — whatever that means — I’ll still be someone who thinks mathematically, listens more carefully, and understands learners better.
That’s worth something.
Or maybe I need to interrogate the idea that a ‘real teacher’ only teaches in field.
Why can’t I be a ‘real teacher’ as an out-of-field teacher?
A Quiet Push Against the System
The system still wants flexible generalists, but many of us are quietly working to specialise — to claim a subject, a voice, a direction.
What does it mean to specialise in something like maths when the system still treats you like a generalist band-aid?
