If the world of teaching was flat, August would have fallen off the edge of the map. It’s unchartered territory.
A school in August is like a fish out of water. Or rather, the water without its school of fish. For a start, the quiet hits you. It’s beyond quiet; a concrete absence punctuated only by the metaphysical grumbling of redundant plumbing, normally relieved by classroom chatter. The building sounds lonely, lamenting its temporary loss.
Perspective changes. The classrooms seem somehow smaller. The chairs seem tiny. It’s hard to imagine the place pulsating with life. Walls stand bare, with nothing to say and nothing to share. The skeleton of the school is revealed. It needs flesh and bones, for a school is nothing without its scholars.
The lost property is truly lost. The photocopier has nothing to copy. The staffroom has more than enough room. No one plays on the playground.
But of course, the world isn’t flat.
And neither is your school. Not really.
The school is merely becalmed, resting and recuperating, as must you. Just like a battery requires time to recharge, we all need both time and space. You deserve it. It’s okay for the business of school to wait, the busyness of school to wait, and essential to prioritise you.
Being ready-and-raring in September means being steady-and-caring in August.
Because a little self-care is the least selfish thing that you can ever do. This is your time. You’ve earned it. Everything else can wait. September will be here in its own good time.
Until then, unapologetically enjoy the best of times.