by Dani Bryton - Teacher and MA Education Technology Student (written July 2025)

FOREWORD: This article was originally written nine months ago, during a period of profound reflection and significant career transition. It captures a moment when I felt my professional 'back stage' self was entirely neglected, leaving me adrift. Reading it now, from a completely different perspective, is surreal. Since writing these words, I have indeed been 'reborn'. I am thrilled to share that I have returned to the classroom, embracing the identity of 'psychology teacher' once more. But this time, it is different. The lessons learned during that hiatus, and explored in this piece, have allowed me to return with a renewed passion, a clearer set of boundaries, and a profound appreciation for the necessary performance we all play. I offer this reflection as it was written—a testament to the challenging, yet beautiful, fluidity of our professional selves.

Most teachers would probably tell you that their professional identities begin to develop when they started their teacher training. Mine however, began at least as early as age 6 or 7. I was some kind of mentor to the reception class when I was in year 2. I don't recall how the role came to be mine, or even entirely what it entailed, but I remember helping out with specific activities such as painting, and reading. I already knew at that point, and I believe even earlier, that I was going to be a teacher.

Fast forward a few years, and a slight mental detour through acting, and at 14, I embarked on my first real experience of working in education, whilst volunteering as a teaching assistant during inset days, and continuing this into work experience following year 11, and throughout year 12. 

Whilst I hadn't been ready for the academic journey into education when I first left school, I remained embedded through employment as a teaching assistant, firstly in a junior school, and later in a secondary school, whilst completing a level 3 teaching assistant qualification. My undergraduate degree and subsequent PGCE followed, and the rest they say is history… or in my case, Psychology. 

But what, precisely, was this 'psychology teacher' identity I stepped into? Was it fully formed? Or was it, like my earlier, forgotten ambition to teach IT and computing (a field I'm now circling back to in my Masters), a constantly evolving construct? To truly understand this, and to reflect on how our professional selves come to be, it's helpful to turn to psychological theories of identity formation, such as those proposed by Erikson (1968) and Tajfel (1979).

Through his psychosocial stages of development, Erikson (1968) argued that identity formation is a lifelong process, with adolescence seeing the core struggle of 'Identity versus Role Confusion'. This is where individuals explore various roles and ideologies to forge a cohesive sense of self. However, this exploration and potential confusion isn't limited to youth; major life transitions, like entering or changing a profession, can trigger similar re-evaluations of one's role and self-concept. For me, my consistent, almost innate, desire to teach from a very young age could be seen as an early, strong identification with a professional role, which later diversified with my 'detour' into acting and the eventual pivot from computing to psychology. This illustrates how even a seemingly clear path can involve periods of exploration and re-commitment, shaping a more refined professional identity.

Social Identity Theory proposed by Tajfel (1979) suggests that a significant part of an individual's self-concept derives from their membership in social groups. People categorise themselves and others into 'in-groups' and 'out-groups', and strive for a positive social identity by enhancing the status of their own group. This theory powerfully explains how being part of a professional community can become deeply intertwined with one's personal identity. As a 'teacher', and more specifically a 'psychology teacher', I became part of a distinct professional 'in-group'. The values, norms, and collective identity of this group undoubtedly shaped my perception of myself, potentially leading to a profound immersion where my professional role felt inseparable from my personal being.

This concept of belonging to a professional 'in-group', as described by Tajfel (1979), extends significantly to communities like the Association for the Teaching of Psychology (ATP). Becoming an ATP member offers more than resources; it provides a vital space for social identification, where the shared values and unique challenges of teaching psychology are understood. Within this welcoming community, the professional identity of a psychology teacher is not only acknowledged but enhanced, allowing individuals to connect with peers who appreciate their specific role and, crucially, value them as a person beyond just 'a teacher'. This dual recognition helps build a robust sense of self that balances both professional commitment and personal well-being.

A foundational figure in symbolic interactionism, Mead (1934) argued that our 'self' is fundamentally social, emerging and continually redefined through interaction with others. Identity, for Mead, develops as we learn to use symbols and language, interpreting the world and 'taking the role of the other'. This process helps us internalise the attitudes and expectations of society (the 'generalised other'), shaping our 'Me' (the socialised self) in relation to our spontaneous 'I'. Identity is thus a dynamic process of interpreting and responding within social contexts, not a fixed entity.

This sociological lens clarifies my own early journey. From helping in Year 2 to my time as a teaching assistant, my evolving educator identity was forged in countless social interactions. Each instance of helping a student or collaborating with a colleague contributed to my 'Me' – the socialised self reflecting external expectations, solidifying my perception as a teacher long before formal qualification.

Goffman (1959) extended the idea of the social self through his dramaturgical theory, viewing social interaction as a theatrical performance. Individuals are like actors, presenting a 'front' to an 'audience' to manage impressions. Our identities are fluid, performed for different social 'stages' (e.g., the classroom, staffroom). He distinguished between the 'front stage' – where we act out our roles according to social norms and expectations – and the 'back stage', where we can relax from the performance and be our more authentic selves. This continuous act of impression management is crucial for defining and maintaining our roles in society.

Goffman’s perspective resonates strongly with my lived experience of being a teacher. Stepping into the classroom each day felt like entering a 'front stage', where a specific persona, complete with expected behaviours and attitudes, was performed. The consistent enactment of this 'teacher' role, managing impressions for students and colleagues alike, deeply shaped my professional identity. The challenge, I later realised, lay in ensuring this 'front stage' performance didn't entirely consume my 'back stage' personal self. In a poignant alignment with Goffman's theory, this struggle is perhaps best symbolised by my own tattoo: 'All the World's a Stage' (Shakespeare, 1599),  a deeply personal reminder of the many parts we play and the authentic self that exists off-stage.

However, it wasn't necessarily that my 'front stage' aggressively took over; rather, through prolonged burnout and sheer exhaustion, I simply forgot to nurture or even play the 'back stage' role at all. The vibrant personal identities I once held – the avid reader, the foodie, the friend, the individual with passions outside the classroom – faded into a state where I felt, quite profoundly, like 'no-one'. This experience highlights a critical aspect of contemporary identity, what Bauman (2000) termed the 'liquid self' – an identity that is fluid, constantly re-negotiated, and highly susceptible to the pressures of modern life and work.

This period of feeling 'no-one' was a stark reminder of the dangers of allowing any single role, even a cherished professional one, to become the sole definition of self. Yet, it also became a catalyst. My current Masters in Educational Technology is not just an academic pursuit; it's a deliberate act of re-engagement and redefinition of my identity. It allows me to merge my deep understanding of teaching and psychology with a renewed passion for technology, actively constructing a more robust, diversified, and resilient professional and personal self. My intention here is not to deter anyone from the incredibly rewarding profession of teaching, but rather to underscore the vital importance of actively managing one's identity and protecting those crucial 'back stage' elements. Ignoring this critical balance can leave even the most dedicated educator feeling adrift, but with awareness and strategy, teaching remains an immensely fulfilling career.

So, how can we embrace the rich professional identity that teaching bestows, yet ensure we don't lose ourselves in the process? Firstly, set clear boundaries: consciously designate time and space that are strictly for your 'back stage' self – be it pursuing hobbies like reading and cooking, or simply disconnecting from work communications. Secondly, cultivate diverse identities: actively invest in roles outside of teaching. Whether you're a gamer, a musician, a community volunteer, or a devoted friend, nurture those aspects of your life. Finally, seek support within your professional 'in-group': engage with associations like the ATP. Connecting with peers who understand the unique demands of your role can provide vital validation and shared strategies for balance, reinforcing both your professional commitment and your personal resilience. By consciously tending to both our 'front stage' performance and our vital 'back stage' existence, we can truly thrive, not just as teachers, but as whole, fulfilled individuals.

AFTERWORD: Writing this article nine months ago was a pivotal moment in my own journey of professional identity. It was a time of significant exhaustion and a sense of disconnection. However, I’m incredibly grateful that this wasn't the final scene of my teaching story. The period of reflection and distance described here allowed me to, quite literally, 'reborn' my professional self. I have since returned to the classroom and, crucially, I am loving the job again. The challenge of balancing my front-stage performance with my back-stage self remains a dynamic dance, but the awareness I gained during that break has made me a more resilient, passionate, and fulfilled educator. My tattoo, 'All the World's a Stage,' serves as a constant, much-needed reminder to cherish every act and ensure the final curtain never falls on my authentic self.

References:

Bauman, Z. (2000). Liquid modernity. Polity Press.

Erikson, E. H. (1968). Identity: Youth and crisis. W. W. Norton & Company.

Goffman, E. (1959). The presentation of self in everyday life. Doubleday.

Mead, G. H. (1934). Mind, self, and society (C. W. Morris, Ed.). University of Chicago Press.

Shakespeare, W. (1599). As you like it (Act II, Scene VII).

Tajfel, H. (1979). An integrative theory of intergroup conflict. British Journal of Social Psychology, 18(2), 183–198.