15/04/2026
“I Regret Choosing The Teaching Profession" — Ghanaian Teacher Laments as Woman in Netherlands Responds, “I Don’t Regret My Cleaning Job”
A recent social media exchange has sparked a powerful conversation about work, dignity, and quality of life. It all began when a teacher in Ghana expressed deep frustration about their profession. After years of service, the teacher revealed they had received only one month’s salary and concluded, “I have regretted choosing this profession.”
That statement alone reflects a painful reality many professionals in Ghana face—delayed salaries, limited support, and emotional burnout.
But what truly captured public attention was a response from a Ghanaian woman living in the Netherlands.
In a candid and heartfelt comment, she shared that she does not regret working as a cleaner abroad. In fact, she takes pride in it.
According to her, she works just six hours a day and earns about €2,100 monthly. Beyond her salary, she enjoys additional benefits such as vacation bonuses in May and December, sometimes totaling up to €3,000. She emphasized that she does not struggle to receive her pay and can comfortably meet her needs—whether it’s food, rest, or leisure activities like going to the movies or buying clothes.
She also shared a glimpse into her personal life. She is a mother and a single parent, with children born in Ghana. Today, she holds a Dutch passport and benefits from the social support system available in her new home.
Yet, despite her financial stability and improved quality of life, she admitted something deeply personal—she sometimes feels sad for not being “educated.”
This exchange presents a striking contrast. On one hand, a trained teacher—part of a respected profession—feels regret due to poor working conditions. On the other, a woman in a job often undervalued by society expresses pride because it provides stability, dignity, and peace of mind.
The conversation goes beyond individual experiences. It raises broader questions about how societies value work and workers. Why should someone in a critical profession struggle to survive, while others in less celebrated roles find better living conditions elsewhere? Why do many Ghanaians feel more rewarded abroad than in their own country?
At its core, this story challenges our definition of success. It suggests that success is not merely about titles or academic qualifications, but about well-being, fairness, and the ability to live a balanced life.
There is dignity in honest work—regardless of the job title. And perhaps, the real issue is not the kind of work people do, but the systems that determine how that work is valued and rewarded.
In the end, both voices—the frustrated teacher and the proud cleaner—tell a story that deserves attention. Their experiences highlight the urgent need for change, reflection, and a deeper understanding of what it truly means to live well.
