Coming Down to Summer

I've never heard any other teacher talk about this so I'm going out on a limb here because I suspect there might be another teacher out there, especially a middle school teacher, who may feel the same way. The thing is, I feel weird the first few days of summer vacation. I walk in circles around the house, pick things up, forget where I put them down, stare at the backyard a lot, start things and walk away without finishing. I leave half-cups of coffee and vacant holes dug in the ground where a plant needs to go. There's a mental fog that comes over me. It's as if I am stultified by the silence, the stillness, the peace around me. No one is calling my name and I do not have a large clock ticking down the minutes until I can go to the bathroom.

At some point in the day, usually afternoon, I'll have a burst of lucidity and begin directing the dogs every few minutes. They give each other a look of wonder as to why I am home and telling them what to do but, being dogs, they eventually comply. Let's go everybody!  We're going outside now. We're going inside now. Wipe your paws. Get some water.  Time for lunch. It's possible I might be doing the same thing to my husband when he gets home in the evening. I'll have to ask him.

It's not that I don't have a life, things to accomplish. After I pack up the classroom, I peel out of the school parking lot with my summer to-do list like everyone else. There are beach trips planned, a pile of books I've been wanting to read, road trips to visit friends and family, gardening projects, a garage to clean out, and gym workouts to do. All of this just doesn't seem to happen until I wake up from whatever haze I fall into after the school year closes.

It certainly would be too strong to compare this feeling to Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I have my suspicions that it is related to coming down from the stress of the school year. The high-state of alertness and readiness required to respond to the shifting energy of young adolescents and the unexpected moments in the classroom, takes a while to shed.

A few years ago I attended a conference in which the presenter shared some occupational research that found classroom teachers are second only to air traffic controllers in the amount of split-second decision-making that they need to make during their work day. Now, I realize that I do not have the same level of urgency in my job.  I do not have human beings in life-support capsules at 30,000 feet up in the air, landing, and taking off on busy runways, so it is a bit of a stretch to compare the two professions. But, like an air traffic controller, I do have a 3-D area around me at school that I am monitoring, assessing every few seconds. And I have even witnessed a few crashes. One year I had a 6 ft. tall boy who would spontaneously lunge back in his chair and topple backwards, legs in the air, as he fought gravity with all the calamity of a cavalry horse coming down in battle. Another time, I came around the corner of the hallway that has a ramp to find, at the end of it, more girls than you would think possible extricating themselves from the second shelf of an overturned library cart. You just never know what anomaly will show up on your screen.

Today I am four weekdays into summer vacation and am hoping that the stresses of the school year have washed their way through, that I am rested and my mind-fog will lift so I can begin my summer plans.  A little more coffee may help, just as soon as I find my mug.  I think I left it in the backyard.