Celebrating the Teacher in Me: 21 Years of Service and the Marathon That Finally Lets Us Celebrate

This October, I will mark 21 years in service with the Teachers Service Commission. Twenty one years, long enough that if service were a river, mine would have carved canyons by now. Long enough to have taught the children of children I once taught. Long enough to have moved through transfers, TPAD appraisals, exam seasons, and curriculum reforms from 8-4-4 to CBC; and later, to have walked alongside hundreds more as a field officer, supporting teaching and learning, collecting and analysing education data, writing reports that inform decisions far above the classroom, and running programmes designed to strengthen the very education system I came through.

Long enough to have given this nation two decades of quiet, unglamorous, faithful service, the kind no one claps for at the end of a term, the kind that shows up years later in a child who became a doctor, an engineer, or a teacher themselves.

So, when I say this year's World Teachers' Day means something different to me, I mean it literally. In all my years in this profession, first as a classroom teacher and later as a field officer supporting teaching and learning, this is the first time I have seen us celebrated with this much visibility, this much excitement, and this much public permission to be proud of ourselves.

And because of that, I am not missing it. Not this year. Not after everything.

The Marathon, and Why I'm Showing Up

On Sunday, 27th September, teachers from across the Coast Region will converge in Mombasa County for a Marathon Run, part of the build-up to World Teachers' Day 2026. This year's global theme centres on collaboration the idea that teachers thrive not in isolation, but together. For Coast region teachers scattered across the six counties of Mombasa, Lamu, Tana River, Kwale, Taita Taveta, and Kilifi. The idea is finally being given a body, a date, and a finish line.

Yes, the costs come out of my own pocket: matatu fare, registration, and the small M-Pesa transactions that add up faster than one expects. And no, I don't have money to spare. A teacher's salary in this economy rarely leaves room for extras. But I've decided I am willing to pay the price, not because it is easy, but because I've earned the right to celebrate my own service.

Twenty-one years of showing up for this nation's children, and for the work of teaching and learning, deserves at least one day when I show up for myself.

This is why the marathon matters, beyond the run itself. It's physical wellness after years of sedentary staffroom stress and long field visits. It is mental relief, permission to breathe, to sweat, and to feel something other than the weight of marking, reports, and deadlines.

It's harambee in its purest form: former college and university alumni, colleagues from training sessions and workshops long past, teachers and field staff I've only known through a WhatsApp group, all pulled into one space, all wearing the same T shirt, all remembering why they chose this calling in the first place.

And it's simply fun: County banners fluttering, music thumping at the start line, the shared ache and shared pride at the finish, chilled juice and nyama choma waiting at the end of it all like a reward earned in full.

Walking My Own Race

So, on marathon day, don't expect to see me sprinting past anyone. I'll be walking, proudly, unhurriedly, dust and all; greeting colleagues I haven't seen in years, dancing a little whenever the music picks up, taking photos with my Coast Region family, and soaking in every second of a day I never imagined I'd get to have.

I may not be running the race, but I will absolutely be running toward everything this day represents.

Twenty one years in, I am finally being asked to celebrate myself as a teacher. And I intend to enjoy every single step of it.

To Every Teacher Reading This

You don't need a marathon bib to give yourself permission to celebrate.

This October, however long or short your years of service, find your own way to mark it. Run it, walk it, dance it, write it, rest in it, or simply say out loud to yourself:

I did this. I showed up, year after year, for a nation that needed me.

Wherever you are, whatever your years in service, this is your month too. Celebrate yourself. You have absolutely earned it.

Written by: Eddah Kamau

Educator, Educational Support Specialist, Author, and Mental Health Advocate.