I started out just trying to find tutoring jobs online. That was it. Nothing too ambitious—just a little extra income, maybe something flexible I could do from home while the kids were napping or fighting over the last banana.
But it turned into… more. Not “more” in some huge, transformational, oh-my-god-I-found-my-calling kind of way. Just… different. A weird, winding little journey through other people’s living rooms, chaotic Zoom calls, and my messy expectations.
The Accidental Beginning
I wasn’t planning to be a tutor. Not really. I’d been a primary school tutor years ago—before marriage, before babies, before the part of my brain responsible for remembering anything more than four seconds long got completely fried.
Back then, tutoring was straightforward. You showed up, sat with the kid, taught them how to read better or spell “giraffe” without a meltdown, and then left. Simple.
But now? Everything’s online. Everyone’s on edge. And I was rusty.
I found this old notebook in a drawer with scribbles from a lesson I did on fractions. Cut the pizza into 8 slices. You eat 3. What fraction is that?” And I thought, yeah, maybe I can do this again.
So I started Googling. You know the drill—“flexible tutoring jobs,” “how to teach online,” “best websites to find tutoring jobs online.” The usual internet rabbit holes. I ended up on three different platforms before I figured out what was legit and what was just another excuse to harvest your email and spam you with productivity webinars.
Anyway, I made a profile. Uploaded a photo where I looked semi-awake. Added a painfully generic bio—“passionate about helping young minds flourish” or something equally overused. Then I waited.
The First Gig Was… Well, Let’s Just Say It Was Humbling
My first student was a fourth-grader named Talia. Her mom booked me through one of the bigger platforms. We had our first session at 4:30 p.m., which is universally known as the Hour of Total Kid Meltdown.
I logged on five minutes early, nerves jangling, only to spend the first ten minutes troubleshooting her camera. Then her mic. Then I explained to her dog (who barked every time I said the word “multiplication”) that I wasn’t a threat.
Somewhere in the middle of our session—just as I was drawing a terribly lopsided triangle in Microsoft Paint—Talia asked, completely deadpan, “Are you even good at math?”
Oof.
But also… fair.
That session ended, and I immediately wanted to crawl under the floor. But I didn’t. I rewatched the recording, made notes, and told myself one important thing: This is not failure. This is learning. The hard, kind of embarrassing kind.
And to be honest, that’s when I realized something strange. I was enjoying this. Not in a “this is easy” way. In a “this is real and unpredictable and a little chaotic” way.
Building Something Real (and a Little Messy)
Things picked up. Slowly. I got a second student, then a third. They weren’t all kids—one was a middle-aged guy trying to pass an exam for work. He was hilarious and swore every third sentence, usually at the math problems.
The thing is, there’s no script for this stuff. No perfect way to be a tutor online. Especially when you’re bouncing between roles—being a parent one minute, a tutor the next, then somehow talking a kid through a meltdown like a wannabe therapist, all while trying to keep the internet from crashing. There were days when, weirdly enough, I felt like I was handling it. Other days, I wore the same hoodie three sessions in a row and forgot the word “denominator.”
Still, I kept showing up. And the families kept coming back.
One mom emailed me after her son aced a test we’d studied for. “He said he felt smart,” she wrote. I stared at that line for a full minute, then cried into my tea.
That’s what kept me going. Not the money (though let’s be honest, it helped cover groceries). It was that quiet sense of doing something that mattered, even if no one else saw it.
Besides that, I started getting questions from other friends—mostly teachers—who were burning out fast in traditional schools. “How’d you get started?” they asked. “Are there legit tutoring jobs for teachers out there?”
And yeah, there are. Plenty. But also, it’s not just about the job listings. It’s about figuring out what kind of educator you want to be.
A Shift I Didn’t Expect
There was this one session that kind of shifted things for me. It was with a 9-year-old who had been labeled “difficult” by three previous tutors. Honestly, I braced myself.
But the minute we started talking about Pokémon, the kid lit up. I leaned into that—used Pokémon stats to explain percentages, had him design math word problems based on imaginary battles.
And wouldn’t you know it? He crushed every problem.
It hit me at that moment—tutoring isn’t about following some rigid script. Not anymore. It’s about connection. Finding the little cracks where curiosity lives and planting something there.
Getting back into being a primary school tutor—even if it was through a screen—reminded me that learning was never meant to be tidy. It’s chaotic, noisy, unpredictable… and honestly, kind of wonderful in its own strange way.
The Days That Don’t Feel Magical
Some days just fall flat. The internet would glitch, the kids barely paid attention, and I was sitting there wondering if I had anything left to give.”
“And honestly, there were weeks when I really questioned what I was doing? Was I making a difference? Was this worth the time? Should I just go back to something “stable,” like admin work or retail?
But then I’d get a random text from a parent:
“She used a fraction example from your lesson during dinner tonight!”
That would carry me for another week.
Also, being able to work from home meant I was here. When my son scraped his knee. When my youngest wanted to build a cardboard spaceship. I didn’t miss those moments. And for that alone, I’m grateful.
So, Did I Find What I Was Looking For?
Yes and no.
I did manage to find an online tutor’s job. That part worked out. I pieced together a little income stream that’s still running, still flexible, still growing.
But I also found something else. A way to reconnect with parts of myself I thought were long gone—like creativity, patience (okay, sometimes), and the wild joy of watching someone get it for the first time.
And honestly, that’s bigger than anything I expected when I clicked that first “sign up to be a tutor” button.
Final Thoughts From the Middle of the Mess
If you’re thinking about doing it—especially if you’re a teacher who’s had enough of school politics or a parent looking for part-time income—know this: the path to find tutoring jobs online isn’t always clear.
But there’s space out here. There are parents who are looking for support. Kids who just need one adult to see them.
There are tutoring jobs for teachers who want to show up differently. There’s room for you—with all your quirks, your tired jokes, your scratchy voice at 5 p.m.
Just start. Messy and unsure. That’s how most good things begin.
So yeah. I had initially started to look for online tutoring jobs, but what I found was another version of myself. One that was a little more confident, a little more patient, and surprisingly alright with imperfection.
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