Today is the end of the school year for a number of people that I know.  Most people recognize the end of the year as an exciting time for students and families. But what they may not realize, is that the end of the school year is a really hard time for most teachers.  I did not have a “typical” teaching year this year, but I still feel the weight of this season. And I offer my fellow teachers a virtual high-five and a great big hug too.  There is certainly joy in the journey of a teacher, but that joy is often complicated at the close of the school year.

“You’re lucky you’re a teacher. I wish I had the summers off.”  Is a common phrase uttered by the family members and friends of teachers at this time of year. And while I understand that there is a great freedom that comes from having a few weeks off each summer, those who are quick to profess these feelings of envy clearly do not understand what makes one “lucky” to be a teacher.

What few people understand is that the end of the school year is hard on teachers.  When the last bus has left and the halls are empty, you might expect to see teachers dancing down the halls, doing cartwheels of relief and joy over the successful completion of yet another year.  However, in my experience, the hallways are often eerily quiet and teachers’ faces are solemn and puffy from a day full of good-byes and tears. Our students are important to us; we know what they are passionate about, what triggers can upset their day, and we know more “technical” details about their ability to learn than most people will ever begin to understand.

Although I typically feel a multitude of emotions on the last day of school, one of the strongest is a sense of loss. In the best of cases, there are the students who you know are headed home to summers full of fun and learning with their family and friends.  You know they will be happy, but they will be missed: you just spent somewhere in the vicinity of 1,000 hours with their smiling faces and their spunky personalities over the last nine months, and now you might never see them again. All students will be missed, but in some cases, there is more felt than just a desire to watch their futures unfold: there is the complication of concerns for children you care so deeply about. In some cases, you are filled with concern over the learning that might be lost as students spend much of their time alone or with their video games for enrichment.  In the worst of cases, you send some students home not knowing what their summers will bring.  Sometimes you know they might go hungry or you know each day will be a struggle to survive any number of tumultuous experiences over those summer months until the regularity of the school year begins again.  Sometimes you receive the promise of a social worker that regular wellness checks will be done, but that is rare.  Most of the time, you are helpless to do more than send them off with your prayers, a backpack full of snacks, and a new pair of flip flops you hope will remind them that they are important to you as they journey into their future; wherever that might be.

Tonight, many teachers will cry themselves to sleep because they didn’t become teachers for the summers off. They became teachers because they had a passion for teaching and for students; for the students they have loved and protected and taught for the past nine months. The ones who are now out of their care for the summer.

Tomorrow morning, teachers will wake up with headaches from crying themselves to sleep and from sleep deprivation brought on by the past week of late nights: finishing report cards, making memory books for their students, and planning the last field trip of the year.  They will feel exhausted both physically and emotionally as they head to their classrooms to pack up another year of memories.  They will leave the school building late in the day, many will return next week to finish packing and cleaning, and they will meet their friends to celebrate another year.  There will be reason to celebrate. There will be joy at the accomplishments of the year, there will be the hope of a summer to heal, and there will also be gratitude for the opportunity to begin all over again in the fall.

So, if you know a teacher who is finishing up the school year, offer him or her an extra hug this week…and, in my experience, gifts of caffeine are always appreciated as well.  As a teacher, I know that I am “lucky” but I also know that it isn’t because of the summers off.  We aren’t paid over the summer, and consequently, many teachers are forced to find work over the summer; either teaching summer school or at other seasonal or part-time jobs.  And for those who don’t work, there will certainly be work to do: researching ways to improve our teaching and searching Pinterest for great new bulletin board ideas and literacy center work.  Summers are great, but our students are great-er 🙂  They are the reason we do the work we do.  We are lucky because we have the awesome, humbling opportunity to impact the future by impacting these little lives entrusted to us. Teachers, today, hang on to the joy in your journey: in your calling and your work. And allow yourself to feel joy in the gift of a summer to rest and repair.