We’re delighted to welcome Dawn Czaja back to the blog once again. You may recall her last article, Keep the Cape, in which she resisted the notion that teachers are superheroes. Now, she reflects on the value of the summer recess and just how ragey to get when people suggest teachers have a cushy schedule.

I’d like to paint a picture for you. It’s a September school day, mid-afternoon, when a 7-year-old second grader walks up to you with a concerned look on his face and a small packet labeled DO NOT EAT held out in the palm of his hand. “Um, Miss, what happens if you eat this?”

“I’m not sure, I think it’s some kind of poison?” His face falls and he looks like he’s about to cry.

You’re confused. The packet clearly says DO NOT EAT, and this is a child who knows how to read. Why is he so upset? “Did something happen?” you ask. He doesn’t answer, but instead starts gagging. Something clicks in your brain—you blurt out something you never imagined you’d have to say to a second grader. “DID YOU EAT SOMETHING FROM THE PACKET THAT SAYS DO NOT EAT?”

Fast forward ten minutes. After some frantic googling because there isn’t a full time nurse in your school (turns out silica packets are just a choking hazard, not poison), a phone call home (Yes, I know it says DO NOT EAT; No, I don’t know why he would eat it), and a reassurance to the child that you promise it isn’t poison and he’ll be fine (the look on his face says he’s not sure he believes you), you have to get back to actually teaching the other twenty children in the classroom who used your distraction as an opportunity to absolutely lose their minds.

Don’t get me wrong. All jobs are stressful. They have ups and downs, highs and lows, good days and bad days. But when people offhandedly (or directly) comment to me that they wish they had a cushy schedule like me, my response is always, “Have you met children?” If I didn’t have a summer vacation, I simply would not be able to continue working as an educator.

I’ll give you a summary of my day. I sign-in to work by 8:15 and the children arrive moments later. I have to be on until 11:40, at which time my students go to recess. Then it’s a rush to the bathroom to beat the line of all the other teachers who are also getting to pee for the first time all morning. I eat my lunch in the 10 minutes remaining and then it’s back to children. If I’m lucky, the kids have a “special” at some point, but if the music teacher is out and no substitute has shown up, it’s all on me until dismissal begins at 3:10. No hour for lunch, no going to the bathroom whenever I want, no going to the gym during the work day (people really do this?!?). Forget online shopping or making appointments or returning phone calls. Write a blog? Have to do that at home on my own time. By the time I’m allowed to leave at 3:30, I am done. And most days I’m not leaving at 3:30—that’s for sure. I have to do things that simply do not fit in the school day: call parents, plan lessons, and grade assessments. This does not even account for the optional things I do to establish and maintain relationships with students and their parents: performances, sports, and community events. Sure they’re optional, but I like my students and relationships are an important part of teaching, so I do them.

There are other jobs that are on all day, sure. (People in the medical profession, you are my heroes. Sick people are the worst). I’m not a martyr, and summer vacation is a great perk in an otherwise perk-less career. But if I didn’t have that beacon of hope waiting for me at the end of 180 days, I am not sure I would make it.

I’m one of the lucky ones. I work in a district that pays teachers better than most. My paycheck is for 180 days of work, but it’s spread out over the whole year, so I am still getting paid during the summers. In 36 states, teachers are paid less than the national average of $58,353, so teachers work second and third jobs to make up the difference. They use summer to work another full-time job just so they can pay their bills.

Even though my district pays better than most, many teachers, myself included, still work during the summer. And those who don’t work are taking classes or caring for their own children. But it’s not the same as the other 180 days, and that’s why it’s so necessary.

The 2017 Educator Quality of Work Life Survey put forth by the American Federation of Teachers states that 23% of educators say work is always stressful, with over half stating that it’s always or often stressful. The survey also showed that teachers and school staff are significantly more stressed than other U.S. workers.

Source: 2017 Educator Quality of Work Life Survey, American Federation of Teachers

Teacher burnout is a real thing. About two in five novice teachers abandon the profession within four years. The quality of the work environment and job-related stress account for a major part of that turnover. We take on so much for our students. We worry about them when they’re not around - what else is that kid eating that he shouldn’t be? Teachers are constantly bombarded with messages that if only we did more, worked harder, wrote more lesson plans, stayed later, our students would achieve more, and the majority of teachers take that to heart. It’s stressful, it’s demanding, and it’s exhausting. Research shows that the best way to avoid burnout is to take time off, yet so many teachers give up their nights and weekends to thinking about and planning for their students. If we didn’t have a summer break, no one would last.

Sure, our schedule comes from a time when the middle and upper class would pull their children out of school to travel to the cooler countryside. (Back then, kids in Detroit had a 260 day school year, no thank you.) If you think schools are hot in June now, imagine them 100 years ago when you couldn’t even wear a short sleeve shirt. Schools emptied in the summer, so what was the point of keeping them open?

Studies show that summer vacation can have a negative impact on student learning, and students in low-income households suffering the most, losing two months of reading gains every summer, with the cumulative effect of multiple years of learning loss. Districts such as the one I work in have come up with creative ways to avoid the summer slide, such as partnering with sites around the city to offer free summer programming to students (known here as the “5th Quarter of Learning”). Teachers often work at these programs, but they provide a great change of pace and scenery for both educators and students.

Reports show that 90% of teacher vacancies are due to teachers leaving the profession, not retirement or new positions being added. When I speak with my colleagues, especially those of us who’ve been teaching for less than 15 years, not one of us is sure we’ll be able to make it to retirement age in our current job. We can’t imagine our bodies and minds being able to handle the stress for another 20 or 30 years.

Yet here I am, on the third day of my summer vacation, and I’m already thinking about the students I’ll have in the fall. I’m excited for a new beginning, new students, new moments of what the hell is happening right now. But I can do this because I’m given the time to recharge and do something different during the hottest months of the year. I can stop and remember all the good things that come with being a teacher and make a mental note to hide any silica gel packets I come across in the future.

So the next time someone tells you how they wish they had a teacher’s cushy schedule, just smile and say, “Yes, I have a summer vacation. It’s great. And I freaking earned it. Have you met children?”