Once upon a Monday morning, the school came alive like a bustling beehive. The gates flung open, buses lined up like parade floats, and in marched the tiny feet of learners, the purposeful strides of teachers, the proud steps of parents, and the watchful eyes of administrators. Everyone had a role in this grand performance, yet somewhere in the orchestra of attendance sheets, lesson plans, and parent-teacher meets… but mental health quietly took the back row, humming a forgotten tune.
Everything looks normal. And it is.
But here’s the twist: everyone walks in with an invisible backpack.
Some are light, just carrying the memory of a missed TV show. Others are heavy, with friendship worries, exam jitters, "What’s-for-lunch?" anxiety (very real), or that lingering “Did-I-send-that-email?” dread.
Let’s face it - stress doesn’t wear a uniform. It creeps into the hearts of 8-year-olds worried about a math test, teachers juggling curriculum and corrections, parents navigating teen moods, and leaders trying to balance vision with velocity.
And yes, mental health is the anchor and the wind. It grounds us during storms and lifts us toward progress. Yet we often treat it like the spare tire in a brand-new car: important, but we’ll think about it only when we break down.
If you’ve ever been on a plane (or at least watched the safety video), you’ll know this golden rule: “Put your own oxygen mask on before assisting others.” That, dear reader, is not selfish but it’s smart. Whether you’re a student learning fractions, a teacher decoding Gen Z slang, or a parent trying to remember which class your child has at 4 PM, your wellbeing is the oxygen. Without it, we’re just gasping in a system that demands more and gives less.
So, let’s check in on each other. Let's replace "How are your grades?" with "How are you feeling?" Let’s build a culture where asking for help isn’t a weakness but wisdom. A place where mindfulness sessions are as routine as morning assembly, and where laughter in the staffroom isn't suspicious but sacred. Maybe we lighten the load in tiny ways. A joke scribbled on the board. A 3-minute breathing pause between periods. A “You’ve got this” whispered over a PTA meeting.
Let us ensure that we don’t just teach math and science but also how to carry our invisible backpacks and when to set them down, because when mental health becomes part of the conversation, nobody has to carry their story alone.
So take a moment, peek into that invisible backpack. And if it’s feeling full today, don’t worry. Around here, we carry the weight together.
