There is something about Memorial Day weekend when you work in education.
It is not just a three-day weekend. It is not just graduation parties, cookouts, or the unofficial kickoff to summer. It is a pause. A deep breath. A moment where educators across the country finally begin to unclench their shoulders after carrying an entire school year.
And whether your last day was yesterday, next Wednesday, or still a few weeks away, this weekend always feels symbolic. It feels like the moment where we finally allow ourselves to look up and say, “We made it.”
Because this work is heavy.
Beautiful, meaningful, life-changing…but heavy.
School leaders have spent months balancing staffing shortages, behavior systems, testing pressure, parent concerns, budgets, walkthroughs, meetings, celebrations, crises, and the emotional weight of carrying entire campuses on their shoulders. Teachers have poured themselves into children every single day while trying to keep up with lesson plans, data, grading, interventions, communication, and the endless mental checklist that somehow follows them home every night.
And somewhere in the middle of all of that, many educators quietly disappear inside the work.
Not because they want to.
Because they care deeply.
That is the thing about education. The people who do it well usually give too much of themselves to it.
That is why this weekend matters.
Memorial Day weekend, especially in education, feels like permission.
Permission to sleep in.
Permission to laugh.
Permission to sit on the patio a little longer.
Permission to go to the pool with your kids.
Permission to binge a show without guilt.
Permission to stop checking your email every fifteen minutes.
Permission to be a person instead of being “on” all the time.
And honestly? Some educators desperately need to hear that.
Because the truth is, rest is not weakness.
Rest is recovery.
You cannot spend an entire school year carrying the emotional load of hundreds of people and expect yourself to function at full capacity without ever stepping away. You cannot lead well, teach well, support well, or build strong systems if you are constantly running on empty.
Even machines overheat.
And educators are human beings doing human work.
For school leaders, summer often becomes planning season almost immediately. June 1 hits, and suddenly we are talking master schedules, staffing, professional development, leadership systems, campus improvement plans, behavior systems, and goals for the next school year. The work never fully stops. It simply changes shape.
For teachers, summer becomes the season of catching up on everything that had to wait during the school year. Professional development. Appointments. Family time. Organizing life again. Rebuilding routines. Trying to rest while simultaneously preparing for what comes next.
Life keeps moving.
But maybe this summer, we stop treating rest like something we have to earn.
Maybe we stop glorifying exhaustion as proof that we care.
Maybe we remember that educators deserve joy too.
Not just survival.
Not just recovery.
Joy.
The kind that comes from taking a walk without thinking about tomorrow’s lesson plans.
The kind that comes from hearing your own thoughts again.
The kind that comes from sitting outside while the sun goes down and realizing your nervous system finally feels calm.
The kind that comes from reconnecting with your family, your hobbies, your health, your faith, your friendships, or simply yourself.
Because before you were an educator, you were a person.
And that person still matters.
In education, we spend so much time talking about systems, leadership, culture, data, improvement, and outcomes. Those things matter deeply. But none of those things work long term if the people inside the systems are completely depleted.
Strong schools are built by healthy people.
And healthy people understand that rest is part of the process.
So this weekend, take the picture.
Go to the graduation.
Celebrate your people.
Sleep late.
Sit by the water.
Travel somewhere.
Laugh hard.
Turn your notifications off for a little while.
Be present with the people sitting across from you.
School will still be there.
The plans will still get made.
The classrooms will still get set up.
The systems will still need attention.
But for this moment?
Breathe.
You have spent an entire school year carrying responsibilities that most people outside of education will never fully understand.
You do not have to earn this weekend.
You already did.
So go enjoy your summer.
Not just as an educator.
As you.
Cheri