From the first day of school until Christmas break, life as an educator moves at a pace that is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it.
For classroom teachers, the days are full before students even walk in the door…lesson plans, copies, grading, parent communication, behavior management, and then actually standing in front of students all day, giving everything you have. For school leaders, it’s a constant cycle of putting out fires, supporting staff, analyzing data, running PLCs, managing special programs, handling community relationships, and ensuring the building functions as it should.
Somewhere along the way, the days begin to blur. You wake up on a Monday morning, and before you know it, it’s Friday afternoon. The weekends, time that should be restorative, become filled with groceries, laundry, appointments, family responsibilities, and catching up on everything that didn’t fit into the week.
Thanksgiving break is a welcome pause, but let’s be honest, it’s short. One week, often centered around a holiday, barely scratches the surface. We rest a little, but we also use that time to tackle bigger life tasks we’ve been putting off. Deeper cleaning. Appointments. Catching kids up on what they need. By the time it’s over, it can feel like we need another break just to recover from the break.
The Christmas holiday break is different.
For most educators, this is the only extended pause in the school year. District doors close. Email traffic slows. Meetings stop. The noise quiets. And for the first time in months, there is space…real space…to breathe.
For me, this break has always been the time when I give myself permission to shut down.
I don’t schedule workdays at school. I don’t spend Sunday afternoons preparing newsletters or lining up substitutes like I used to as a principal. I bring my computer home because experience has taught me that true emergencies do happen, but I don’t open it unless absolutely necessary. I intentionally release myself from the pressure to stay “on.”
I also give myself permission to be slow.
Slow mornings. Two cups of coffee with my dog on the couch. Sleeping in if my body needs it. Working out when I want to…10 a.m. or 8 p.m… not when my calendar tells me to. Even now, as a business owner in addition to working in a school, I do work during this time, but it’s work I choose. Work that fills me up. Work done on my timeline.
Recently, I was talking with a brand-new first-year teacher who shared how excited she was for the break. She listed all the things she planned to do: work on lesson plans, analyze mid-year data, reorganize her classroom. She even mentioned coming up to school one day “just to get ahead.”
I gently reminded her that we already have staff development days built in for those very things.
She paused and asked, “But is that allowed? Shouldn’t I be working all the time?”
That question stopped me in my tracks.
Somewhere along the way, educators learned to equate rest with laziness and productivity with worth. We feel guilty for slowing down, as if taking care of ourselves is somehow irresponsible. But here’s the truth we don’t say often enough: if you keep burning the candle at both ends, eventually the candle burns out.
These two weeks matter.
They matter because the second semester is intense. They matter because there are no extended breaks again until spring. They matter because January demands clarity, energy, patience, and presence, from teachers and leaders alike.
Rest is not a reward for finishing the work. Rest is what makes the work sustainable.
So if you need permission this holiday season, let this be it:
Permission to not open your laptop.
Permission to sleep.
Permission to move slowly.
Permission to choose joy without justification.
Your school will still be there. Your classroom will still need you. But when you return rested instead of depleted, you show up as the version of yourself your students and staff truly need.
If you’re looking for support that honors both the work and the human doing the work, the UNCOMMON Platform was built with you in mind. It’s professional learning designed to fit into real life, supporting teachers and leaders without adding to the overwhelm.
This break, give yourself permission to be slow.
Next semester let’s do the work, together, stronger than ever.
Cheri