Another Summer

I’ve been on summer vacation for two weeks, but I still can’t sleep past 6am.  I try to make myself stay in bed until 6:30; in my brain, that’s a more reasonable time to be awake.  It happens every year.  By August, I’ll be able to sleep in until 9 on occasion- just in time to go back to a 5am alarm.  I know, I know.  What a problem.  My husband has no sympathy.  His alarm goes off at 4am year round.  

I’m 46 years old.  I started school at 5 years old, right?  So technically, this is my 41st summer vacation.  Holy cow.  

Why does summer vacation still surprise me, then?  Why am I always unprepared for it?  

I’ve been seeing a bunch of reels about teachers on summer vacation; usually they’re funny or cute, but sometimes they try to capture the surreal, shocking shift of it.  That helps me to see that I’m not alone, at least. 

While I’m never emotionally prepared for summer, I’ve been doing it long enough to know that there are predictable phases.  The problem is that I bounce between them like a ping-pong ball.  I never know what phase I’ll be in until I’m in it.  

Teachers will tell you that the end of the year is the hardest part of teaching.  Behaviors are amped up, paperwork is endless, we’re frantically trying to get through the curriculum and grade all the things.  We have to pack up our classrooms and take everything off the walls at the same time we’re giving finals and calling parents and writing final reports.  It is a frantic push to the last day.  

And then it just… stops.  

It’s so abrupt.  

*****

The next day, you wake up in the morning, and you’ll get one of these: 

Relief.  You’re at peace.  The whole day is ahead of you.  You can sip your coffee and sit on your deck and listen to the birds.  You don’t need a plan.  You can take the day as it comes, and everything about it feels beautiful. 

Recovery.  You’re traumatized from the weight of the last few weeks, and it catches up with you.  You can’t leave your couch, and you binge watch a full series on Netflix.  Dinner is takeout because you’re too tired from being tired. 

Motivation. You have ALL SUMMER.  You’re going to eat healthy, exercise, and lose 30 pounds.  You’re going to paint all the trim and clean out the garage and organize the closets.  You’re going to landscape the backyard and stain the deck and start a garden and finally write that memoir.

Guilt. Your spouse or your roommate or your parents or your kids are out there WORKING.  They get up every morning and bust their butts.  And you feel bad, so you become the household manager.  You take over responsibilities that are shared during the school year.  Pick up the prescriptions, make the meals, mow the lawn.  You take it all on because, after all, you’re not working.  

Work.  You promised yourself you wouldn’t check your email this week.  But the incredible, hard working secretary at school just needed one more piece of information.  So you pull up the IEPs on your computer and you create a spreadsheet, and you try not to look at the rest of your inbox. 

Leisure.  You schedule a pedicure.  You meet a friend for lunch.  You order a cocktail at noon and you chat for two hours because you’re both teachers and you have nowhere to be. You sit in the park with your book because sunshine feels nice. 

More work.  There is that new curriculum for next year.  You just need to preview the first unit.  And if you plan the first week, the transition will be smoother.  And just one online class.  It’s fine.  You’re not working.  I mean… not really. 

Panic. Where has the time gone?  You haven’t done half of your projects.  Did you even PLAN a vacation?  You were supposed to do all those day trips.  You were supposed to visit family.  You were supposed to paint the trim.  

Frantic Fun.  You look at the days that are left.  You fill the calendar with beach days, amusement parks, and road trips.  You should know yourself better than to think those things could have been spontaneous. WE ARE GOING TO HAVE FUN THIS SUMMER IF IT KILLS US! 

Satisfaction.  You had a good day.  You did something fun.  You moved your body.  You accomplished a task.  You talked to a friend.  What more can you ask for? 

*****

Each day is a surprise.  For me, Monday was already frantic fun.  We were at Six Flags, which is only enjoyable in theory or with a good friend.  Thankfully, I was there with my bestie and her kids.  Yesterday, I was in guilt mode.  When my husband got home from work, I proudly presented him with a list of all I had accomplished, and he looked at me like I was insane.  I’m hoping today is something a little less frenetic, but I’ve been awake for an hour and a half, and I’m still not sure where the day is going to go.  

Over my 41 summer vacations, I have learned one lesson.  I will ALWAYS get to the end of it and wonder where the time went. Over the past decade, the method has evolved, but I know I need to document the summer.  I’ve kept a calendar so we could look back on all we did.  I’ve kept a photo journal, so I can see all of the memories together.  I’ve kept an actual journal, so I can reflect and revisit.  But it is essential for me to keep a record.  When the summer ends, instead of feeling regret or sadness or disappointment, I take a moment and look back.  

As I flip through the journal or scroll through the photos, I cannot help but feel blessed. Camping trips and herb gardens.  Boating and grilling and painting.  Learning and working and sweating and swimming. Forty-one beautiful summers. 

How did I get so lucky?