“Let them teach, let them breathe!” A pulmonologist’s personal call to safeguard the health of our teachers“
Over the years as a practicing pulmonologist, I have been treating many patients with chronic respiratory symptoms, but some cases have struck a particularly personal chord—those involving my former teachers.
These are individuals I have always considered my second parents. They guided me, challenged me, and helped shape the very path that led me to medicine.
Seeing them return to me, not as mentors but as patients, struggling with persistent cough and breathlessness, was both humbling and deeply painful.
What stood out in their histories was a common, seemingly innocuous thread: long-term exposure to chalk dust.
For decades, they taught in classrooms where chalk was used daily—an ever-present tool of education and discipline.
But what many don’t realize is that this constant exposure to fine particulate matter can carry hidden consequences.
Chalk dust, often composed of calcium carbonate or calcium sulfate, generates fine airborne particles that, when inhaled repeatedly over long periods, can irritate and inflame the respiratory tract.
While not a direct cause of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), chronic inhalation of such particulates can lead to pathologic changes similar to those seen in early obstructive airway disease.
This includes mucosal inflammation, submucosal thickening, increased mucus production, and even airway remodeling over time.
Clinically, these changes can present as a persistent, non-productive cough, dyspnea on exertion, easy fatigability, and, in some cases, reduced exercise tolerance—symptoms that mimic those of COPD or chronic bronchitis.
In individuals with underlying asthma or allergic rhinitis, chalk dust can further exacerbate symptoms, leading to a decline in quality of life.
Of course, not all educators exposed to chalk will develop chronic respiratory illness. Genetic predisposition, baseline pulmonary function, and environmental ventilation are contributing factors.
But even if only a fraction is affected, that risk becomes significant when it involves the very people who dedicate their lives to nurturing generations.
It is deeply disheartening to consider that a symbol of knowledge and learning—chalk—may have played a role in the decline of my mentors’ health.
We now have safer alternatives—dust-free whiteboards, projectors, digital tools—that can eliminate this risk altogether. Integrating these tools into our classrooms is not just a matter of modernization, but of health and respect for those who give so much of themselves to educate others.
Let us protect our teachers the way they have always protected and uplifted us. They gave us their voices, their wisdom, and their breath. The least we can do is help ensure they keep that breath for years to come.