The teacher shortage isn’t driven only by policy and pay—it’s also shaped by the stories students hear from the adults they trust. Here, former comms chief Greg Turchetta explains how “don’t go into education” talk damages educator recruitment, and what district leaders and communicators can do to protect the profession without denying real frustration.
As a former chief communications officer at four different K-12 school districts, I spent a decade listening to school and district staff share their experiences and opinions—loudly protesting or supporting decisions at board meetings, speaking with fire and tears in staff meetings, or offering their unfiltered truth in grocery store aisles. I know just how much educators care about the work they do.
So now let me say something uncomfortable: One of the biggest forces damaging K-12 workforce development and the teacher pipeline is not legislation, social media outrage or even the blatant disrespect shown toward teachers. It is the way we talk about our own field.
Before anyone stops reading, let me be clear. I know the frustration and exhaustion so many educators and school leaders feel are real. I know many of you feel worn down or even torn down by underfunding, shifting policies and expectations that grow faster than support. Acknowledging that reality is not the problem.
But when we casually tell someone, “Don’t go into education,” or joke about hating our jobs in school leadership—especially within earshot of students—that is the real problem. When we do that, we're not just venting; we are actively discouraging the next generation from entering the profession we urgently need them to carry forward.
America’s Teacher Shortage
The data makes it clear that the next generation of would-be teachers is already discouraged from entering the field. According to the Learning Policy Institute’s June 2025 analysis, more than 411,000 teaching positions nationwide—roughly one out of every eight—are either vacant or filled by educators who are not fully certified. Between 2008 and 2019, enrollment in teacher preparation programs fell by more than 30%.
The teacher shortages are most severe in critical areas like special education, science and math—and the losses fall disproportionately on students from low-income backgrounds and students of color. In fact, schools serving the highest concentrations of students of color are four times more likely to employ an uncertified teacher. These gaps are not abstract statistics. They directly shape students’ daily experiences, academic outcomes and long-term learning opportunities.
When districts cannot recruit and retain certified educators, the consequences compound quickly. Class sizes grow. Courses disappear. Turnover becomes constant. Students lose continuity, stability and learning opportunities. This is not just a staffing issue; it is a system sustainability issue.
Perception Drives Belief
As a K-12 communications professional, I learned early that perception drives belief. Students do not choose careers based solely on salaries or growth opportunities. They choose based on what they hear from the adults they trust. So when students hear, “I love my students, but I hate this job,” or “It is not worth it,” they do not hear venting. They hear a verdict.
I have seen these comments on social media, overheard them in the central office and—most damaging of all—heard them said right in front of students. Often they are said jokingly, without harmful intent. But over time, those messages accumulate, and the result is clear. Only a small fraction of high school students aspire to become teachers—not because they don't value education, but because we've convinced them it is a frustrating dead end.
This does not mean educators should sugarcoat reality. It means we need a better explanation. There is a critical difference between saying, “This work is hard and the system needs to change,” and saying, “This work is broken and not worth entering.” The first invites reform. The second slams the classroom door shut.
When students ask questions about teaching, it’s our responsibility to give them answers that are honest, but not discouraging. We can say, “This job is demanding and I wish it were better supported, but it matters deeply, and we need people like you who care.”
Protecting the Profession
Other demanding professions such such as medicine, law enforcement and social work all acknowledge burnout, but they fiercely protect the dignity and purpose of their work. You rarely hear doctors advising students to avoid medicine altogether. Education, by contrast, has allowed hopelessness to become normalized. That has to change.
Leadership cannot be neutral here. Superintendents and principals must actively defend the profession. If destructive narratives go unchallenged, they harden into culture. That means interrupting “don’t become a teacher” talk when it happens, reframing conversations to be about impact and growth, and celebrating wins that go beyond mere survival.
Communications teams play a critical role as well, not just as cheerleaders but as champions of public education. This is about more than highlighting student success or covering teacher-of-the-year awards. It is about showing the full experience of teaching: the challenges, the problem-solving, the growth and the moments of amazing impact that rarely make headlines. When we humanize educators and show how they navigate complexity with skill and care, we help restore public understanding and support. It’s urgent work.
Being Mindful of Our Messaging
This is certainly not about silencing frustration or denying educators space to vent among peers. It is about being mindful of the space we choose to vent in. After all, the messages we send our students carry lasting influence—and may determine the future of our field. We can admit that this work is hard, but we must also be willing to say it matters and deserves respect. Because if we do not believe that, why would anyone else choose to join us?
Education is the foundation of every other profession. When we speak about it with contempt, we undermine our community’s future. But when we speak about it with purpose, even amid justified frustration, we protect the talent pipeline that keeps schools alive.
Greg Turchetta is a strategic communications advisor at Apptegy and a guest writer for SchoolCEO. To share thoughts and strategies on navigating the changing K-12 landscape, email him at greg.turchetta@apptegy.com.