You Can Always Tell a Teacher by When They Say 'Next Year'
Why the World Doesn’t Run on the School Calendar (But Maybe Should)
As I was driving down Harmon to Golden Triangle, I saw the flashing signs. Orange cones. Trucks. Hard-hatted (is that a word?) people all orchestrating some sort of great asphalt symphony. Road construction, of course. But I found myself grateful, oddly enough. Thank God they’re doing this now, I thought. It’s summer. The kids are home. Teachers are spending entire mornings debating which clear bins go in which closet. The school buses are silent. Let them dig.
But then, like a pothole I didn’t see until it rattled my bumper, the truth hit me.
They’re not doing this because it’s summer.
They just don’t care when school starts.
And why would they?
That’s the thing about the school calendar. For teachers, students, and the families who live and breathe band concerts and spirit weeks, it’s the rhythm of life. You measure time not by seasons but by grading periods. Fall isn’t college football and foliage. It’s the start of tech week for the musical. Winter isn’t holidays. It’s the end-of-semester sprint. Spring? UIL. Senioritis. One Act Play. AP testing. Banquet season. And if you're lucky, you’ll have one beautiful May afternoon where nothing is on your calendar and there is no better sight.
But for the rest of the world, October is a perfectly normal time to schedule a 40th high school reunion.
Let me explain.
A few years ago, my mom mentioned her class was holding its reunion in mid-October. I blinked.
October? I asked, as if she’d said the moon was made of brisket.** That’s not even in the summer. How are people supposed to get off work?
She looked at me, and I realized once again. Most people don’t live on the school calendar.
** (Side note: We would have gone to the moon and back many times since 1972 if it was in fact made of brisket and my brother would be an astronaut and not a railroad dispatcher)
They don’t anxiously wait for district emails about snow days or check the first day of school like it’s a national holiday. They don’t count the weeks until Thanksgiving Break or remember the glorious chaos of Red Ribbon Week. Their calendars don’t start in August and end in June. Their July is not a sacred time of rest, recharging, and rethinking how to do group work without losing your mind.
So it begs the question.
Why do schools still operate this way?
And maybe even more importantly.
Shouldn't more people consider it?
There’s something oddly perfect about the school calendar. It’s a fresh start every August. A natural pause every December. A mid year reset in January. And that final slow dance toward summer, with its sunshine promises and echoes of yearbook pages being signed in hallway corners.
Sure, it’s hectic. And yes, by the time May rolls around, every teacher looks like they’ve been in a time travel experiment gone wrong. But it’s beautiful in its way. It respects the cycle of energy. How we start strong. Need breaks. Come back. Sprint. Rest. The school year is a story told in bell schedules and early morning duty.
And here’s the truth.
Life should have seasons.
I’m not saying it’s always healthy. Teachers know that better than anyone. The pressure piles up in waves. The breaks sometimes come too late. But something about having seasons. Knowing that a break is coming even if you have to crawl to it. That feels more human. There's wisdom in the rhythm even when it's exhausting.
Now, as a Texas teacher, let me just throw this out there.
What if we’ve been doing it all wrong?
We take our big, glorious summer break during the one time of year when walking outside feels like opening an oven door at 400 degrees. Every bench. Every steering wheel. Every hallway without A/C is a personal challenge. And we’re supposed to rest in that? Recharge?
What if, stay with me here, we flipped it.
What if the break was in October and November instead?
Can you imagine the magic? Crisp air. Football weather. Parks you can actually use. Cheap plane tickets and no lines at parks? Your energy returns just as the days get shorter and the world slows down. Halloween becomes the new summer solstice. We could rest when the world itself is catching its breath.
Of course, that’ll never happen. But maybe it should.
And while the rest of the world is out there planning reunions in October, we’ll be printing hall passes, counting tardies, and dreaming of a break that comes before the thermostat hits 110.