The Stillness Before the Doorbell Rings
We’re hosting Thanksgiving this year, and most of the family will be here. It’s exciting… and a lot.
Kel loves the preparation — the lists, the cleaning, the organizing, the quiet satisfaction of making the house ready for people we love. Me? I pitch in, but I’ve never been quite as energized by the prep work.
As we put things away, move furniture, sweep corners that have been quietly collecting autumn dust, and make that last grocery run for the forgotten can of cranberry sauce, I can’t help drifting back to so many Thanksgivings past. Years when we were still teaching full-time, pushing through late November with that bone-deep weariness only teachers truly understand.
And then that moment — usually sometime Wednesday night — when we’d finally exhale. Really exhale.
The long breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding since September.
Those memories still live in me, especially this time of year.
The Season We Forget to Name
If you’re early in your career, let me say something plainly: late fall takes a toll.
It’s not your imagination.
It’s not a sign you’re “not cut out for this.”
It’s just the rhythm of the profession.
And later in your career? Well, that doesn’t magically change. Just yesterday, I watched a teacher walk out of school before swim practice — shoulders slumped, backpack heavy, face already in December. He looked like someone who’d been carrying not only papers, but people. I recognized that look. Most of us do.
We pour so much of ourselves into the opening months — building trust, managing behaviors, setting routines, learning who’s who and what’s what — that by Thanksgiving, the nervous system is often running on fumes.
Psychologists describe this as an “overactivation of the sympathetic system.” You’ve been running on alert, reading rooms faster than most people scroll Instagram, carrying the emotional weight of dozens of students.
So when break finally arrives, your body doesn’t just relax — it releases.
That release is holy.
It’s necessary.
And it’s one of the reasons I write this blog — to remind teachers (and myself) that listening to what’s happening inside is not selfish. It’s wise.
What Gratitude Actually Does to Us
I’m not talking about the greeting-card version of gratitude — the “everything is beautiful” kind that glosses over real exhaustion.
I’m talking about the quiet naming of small goodness.
Research from psychologists like Barbara Fredrickson and Robert Emmons shows that gratitude helps widen our attention. When stress narrows our focus into tunnel vision, gratitude gently opens the aperture again. The brain gets a signal that we are safe enough to notice more than the next task.
And that widening?
That’s often the first step toward healing teacher fatigue.
Scripture has its own elegant way of naming this truth:
“In returning and rest you shall be saved;
in quietness and trust shall be your strength.” — Isaiah 30:15
I’ve always loved that line. Not as a command, but as an invitation back to ourselves.
Breaks Are Not for Catching Up — They’re for Coming Back to Life
One of the biggest mistakes I made early in my career was treating breaks like bonus planning periods. I’d carry home stacks of papers, convince myself I’d reinvent entire units, and promise I’d “finally get ahead.”
You can imagine how that ended.
By Sunday night, I was more tired than I’d been on Wednesday.
It took me years — and a few gentle nudges from wiser colleagues (and from wives who know us better than we know ourselves) — to realize that the point of Thanksgiving break wasn’t productivity. It was presence.
When I finally started resting, really resting, the return to school in December felt different. Softer. Less frantic. More human.
That shift is part of what I wrote about in Beyond Burnout: How Spiritual Practices Can Restore a Teacher’s Authentic Voice — the idea that we can comply with the demands of teaching while quietly reclaiming our center.
Returning With a Softer Heart
When you walk back into your classroom after Thanksgiving, carry this with you:
- Gratitude is contagious. Tell your students one thing you appreciated about them before break. Kids remember that.
- Lower the December pressure. It’s a short month, and everyone is tired. Don’t expect mid-September energy.
- Build tiny rest stops into your days. A slower warm-up activity. A quiet moment by the window. A breath you actually pay attention to.
- Hold boundaries with kindness. You can love your students deeply without giving away every ounce of yourself.
- Let grace lead. December is hard for many kids — and many teachers. Small compassion goes a long way.
We don’t have to stride into December like warriors.
We can wander in with gentleness and still do just fine.
A Few Things to Sit With This Thanksgiving
- What small moment of gratitude surprised you this week?
- Where does your body feel the most tired — and what might that part of you need?
- What boundary will you hold over break to protect your peace?
- What do you want to leave behind in November?
- What do you want to carry into December with intention?
Let these questions be soft lights, not assignments.
A Closing Word, From One Teacher to Another
Teaching is long work. Heart work.
And there’s no prize for running yourself ragged before winter break.
So this Thanksgiving, give yourself permission to be human.
To breathe.
To notice the warmth of a crowded table, or the quiet of an empty one.
To rest without apology.
To let gratitude do its slow and steady work in you.
May this season return you to yourself.
May it soften your edges, steady your spirit, and remind you that the world is kinder when we pause long enough to feel it.
Happy Thanksgiving, friend.
References
- Fredrickson, B. (2004). The Broaden-and-Build Theory of Positive Emotions.
- Emmons, R.A., & McCullough, M.E. (2003). Counting Blessings vs. Burdens: Gratitude and Well-Being.
- Porges, S. (2011). The Polyvagal Theory.
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Read my book: Beyond the Grade
Short, practical reflections for real classrooms—stories, psychology, and what actually helps.
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