When the Return Doesn’t Match the Investment — Keep Going Anyway

June 1, Happy International Children's Day!

Lately, I told someone what I’ve been doing — teaching ESL and writing. I admitted that neither path has been easy, especially teaching English to little kids. Teaching is demanding. You pour in your time, skills and patience — and naturally, you hope for a return. For me, that return would be watching my students make progress. But when the progress is not there, it’s easy to question whether all the effort is worth it. Writing, too, hasn’t led me anywhere concrete — at least, not yet.

When I confessed this, he said something that stayed with me:

“Teaching and writing are both deeply personal and often undervalued paths. It’s frustrating when the return doesn’t reflect your investment. But sometimes the seeds we plant take longer to grow than we expect. You might be having more impact than you realize, even if it’s not immediately visible.”

That gave me pause. We often judge our efforts by what we can immediately measure. But the real impact — especially in teaching or writing — may live quietly, surfacing later in someone else’s memory, confidence, or inner change. Just because we don’t see the impact does not mean there isn’t one.

When he asked what keeps me going despite the struggle, my first response was, “I’m not sure — maybe because teaching has always been a passion of mine, and I’ve long been drawn to volunteer work.”

But the more I sat with his question, the clearer my answer became. What keeps me going is the belief that I can still create something of lasting value —especially through writing. Not everything has to bloom overnight. Some things take seasons. Some things take years. But the act of showing up, of creating, of offering, of writing and believing — that in itself is meaningful.

In a world obsessed with fast results and instant gratification, choosing to keep going — even when the going is tough and reward is unclear — is an act of courage.

For my readers: If you’re in a similar place — quietly teaching, writing, creating — and wondering whether it’s all worth it, I’d say this: don’t give up just because the world hasn’t noticed yet. Keep doing what feels meaningful to you. Value doesn’t always come in the form of applause or attention.

The alternative — giving up on what makes you feel alive and could create lasting impact — is far worse than continuing on, even when the future feels uncertain.