mary van milligen

Something happens to my mind when I transition to summer and out of my classroom.  For the first few weeks of summer, I subconsciously move about every 47 minutes thinking I need to be doing something.  Like a Pavlovian dog, I’m programmed to shift like the periods of the day.  As the days proceed, I eventually discover I’m not sure what day it is.  I know that my IQ has dropped…significantly, and I inadvertently begin to question my own psyche after hearing my daughter listen to Twenty One Pilots and the soundtrack of “Joseph and The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat” for the 2,145th time.  “I’ve been thinking too much.  I’ve been thinking too much. I’ve been thinking too much.  Help me.”

About half way through the summer, I’ve more than likely traveled, caught up with friends, taxied my children to several activities and social events, increased my runs, and even taken some professional development courses to keep my mind somewhat sharpened.  Abruptly, my focus changes. I begin obsessing about my home-see every detail that needs improvement, euphorically throw out and donate items from overstuffed and mocking closets, reorganize shelves, look at social media more often than I should, visit the enchanting world of Target more than I should, and binge-watch something on Prime or Netflix.  Do you know you can watch the entire series of “The Good Wife” in three and a half weeks without fully ignoring your family?  Do you also realize that after watching all of those episodes you suddenly sound like the main lawyer character , Alicia Florrick, when you defend your one daughter from accusing your other daughter of using and losing her favorite Spiderman ball?  “Where did you last see the ball?”  ” Did anyone else see her use the ball?”  “Is it possible that you yourself moved the ball and don’t remember where you left it?” The dog yells “objection. Leading the witness.”

My mind and heart need these moments.

And then, I can go back.  I’ll struggle once again as I see my own children go back to school and decrease the minutes of quality time I’ve had with them in the summer, and I’ll pray that their teachers have had mind break moments like I have throughout the summer, so they can truly be present to fill their needs.

While attending mass on Sunday, the first pew was lined with school backpacks.  The energetic priest beautifully blessed the mix of patterned and solid colored items and wished all teachers and students a safe and happy school year.  I jokingly imagined myself diving into those backpacks and asking the priest to douse me in some extra holy water.   I felt it would be the extra rejuvenation I symbolically need to enter another year.  I need to feel lifted, so that my students get the best of me.

In the next week, I’ll meet a new crew of faces and encourage them to share their stories as I consciously listen and witness.  I’ll assess, encourage, remind, inspire, create, and laugh with them.  I can stand outside my classroom door and greet them with a hello and a smile and genuinely mean it.  Why?  Because I really took a break. I gave my mind the rest that it desperately needed, so I can try to be the teacher that I always wanted.