My sister Elizabeth is not a teacher, but every summer she takes time off to visit our family in Oregon. She calls the version of herself who emerges there “Vacation Liz.”
Vacation Liz sleeps later than everyone else and naps in the hammock through the afternoon. She lolls on pool noodles drinking La Croix with Aunt Laurie and picks wild blackberries during sunset walks.
Vacation Liz is my sister’s version of the “summer self,” a concept many educators are familiar with even if they’ve never named it before. I first heard the term from Denise, a New York City public school teacher I’ve coached.
When I was still on a teacher schedule, my summer self went to early morning yoga, made lunch the biggest meal of the day, read at least a book a week, and brought home flats of strawberries for jam-making. When it was too hot to be home, she went to the movies or a Broadway matinee and then to happy hour with her friends that lasted until sunset at 9pm.
I don’t have summers off in the same way anymore, but I’ve been exploring this idea of my authentic self for a couple of years. It’s why I was one of the only adults on the rink at my nine-year-old niece’s roller skating party. It’s why I recently started taking ballet classes again. These are the things I loved as a child but that I stopped doing once I reached a certain age.
In the case of ballet, after more than a decade as a serious student, I stopped once I reached puberty and my teachers made it clear I wasn’t going to have a “ballet body.”
One of my teachers made me wrap my abdomen and thighs in plastic wrap under my tights and leotard, nonsensically believing I could sweat away the curves.
Another kept me after class to tell me I’d be a better dancer if I lost weight.
I devoted myself to modern dance instead, where my fellow dancers and I reflected a wider range of shapes and sizes. I didn’t take a ballet class for 28 years until a few months ago when I discovered that Miami City Ballet has a school with adult classes.
I started in the Foundations class, so basic it’s the level below Beginner, because I wasn’t sure what I would still be able to do.
But that wasn’t necessary. My body remembered exactly what to do.
All the training was still inside, dormant but not dead. Without even having to consciously think about it, my arm lifted as the music began, my legs opened into turnout, and my toes pointed.
It turns out I do have a ballet body after all.
I could not stop smiling through the whole class. I went back every week, first to the Beginner class and then to Intermediate.
It was spring, not summer, but my inner ballerina was an echo of the summer self I want us all to embrace all year long.
As you think about who and how you want to be this summer, here are 4 reflection questions to help you set some seasonal intentions:
Who is your summer (or vacation) self?
What can they teach you about how you want to live all year long?
What did you love to do as a child but haven’t in awhile?
If left to your own devices, how would you spend your time this summer?
If you’re at a critical crossroad or feeling cocooned right now (whether or not you’re in education), this might be a great time to ask yourself these questions.
For much, much more about summer learning, see Chapter 5: Being the Lead Learner of my book Educating with Passion and Purpose: Keep the Fire Going without Burning Out.
Three ways to put these themes into practice:
If you have 5 minutes: Share a comment about your summer self. Who are they and what are they like?
If you have 10 minutes: Set a timer and brainstorm a list of things you loved to do as a child. Challenge yourself to keep writing for the entire 10 minutes. Bonus points for picking something on your list and actually doing it!
If you have 30 minutes: Journal about any of the questions I offered here or check out the Intentional Summer Planning Protocol on page 163 of my book or the digital version available to download here.
Getting Schooled
What I’ve been seeing and thinking about in my recent work with educators
It was an absolute pleasure to lead a workshop with my co-author Meredith at the Bronx Book Festival’s Educator Day on sustainably cultivating a schoolwide reading culture–without burning out. Thank you to everyone who joined us!
Know a teen writer? Encourage them to enter the New York Public Library’s Teen Voices Magazine Contest by August 14. Creators of the 25 pieces selected for publication will each be awarded a $100 gift card.
Field Tripping
What I’ve been doing and experiencing on my weekly field trips (2 hours alone with my lifelong learner hat on)
I took 4 field trips in June:
I camped out in the cookbook section at The Strand, my second favorite used bookstore on the planet (after Powell’s), bought used copies of two out-of-print favorites, and read the “Beginners” issue of the New York Times Style Magazine while getting a pedicure.
I visited the Met to see “The Harlem Renaissance and Transatlantic Modernism” and “Abetare,” the rooftop exhibit of sculptures inspired by Albanian children’s desk doodles. I also stopped by “Pygmalion and Galatea,” which has been my favorite painting at the Met since I first saw it when I was 17. I visit it every time I’m at the museum.
I ate cheese grits at Cafe Fleur de Lis in New Orleans and then visited the Ogden Museum of Southern Art where I especially loved the Southern Abstraction exhibit.
I traveled to Santiago, Chile, and Rapa Nui, and while technically the things I did weren’t Field Trips because I wasn’t alone (hi, Mom!), I definitely had my lifelong learner hat on when I visited La Chascona, Pablo Neruda’s former home, and the moai. (For lots more about what I learned on this trip, see my Rapa Nui Instagram story highlight!)
Want to try a field trip of your own but not sure how to get started? Schedule time on my calendar and let’s brainstorm together.
Reading Recs
What I’ve been reading and ruminating about
I finished 3 books in June:
The Great Cool Ranch Dorito in the Sky by Josh Galarza, a spectacular debut YA novel that tackles grief, eating disorders, and toxic masculinity through the voice of a male protagonist, comes out July 23 – pre-order it now!
Liftoff: Couch to Barbell (A Weight Lifting Guide for the Rest of Us) by Casey Johnston, author of She’s a Beast, one of my favorite newsletters.
Ejaculate Responsibly: A Whole New Way to Think About Abortion by Gabrielle Blair, which should come with the warning label “May Cause Rage-Induced Insomnia” and should also be required reading for anyone who has a penis or is raising/educating someone with a penis.
Have thoughts on what I read this month? Planning to read any of these titles? Got other recs for me?
What’s next?
I help educators stay connected to their passion and purpose so they can provide all students with joyful, enchanting, empowering learning experiences–without burning out.
I work with teachers, leaders, teams, schools, districts, and other organizations to find the intersection of effectiveness and sustainability.
I’m currently booking engagements for the 2024-25 school year, and I’d love to talk about how we can partner.
Interested in instructional or leadership coaching, curriculum or literacy consulting, or thought partnership?
Looking for a PD makeover to provide teacher support that promotes effectiveness AND prevents burnout?
Want to grow sustainably—or ensure your teachers and leaders do?
Thank you for reading this issue of The Cocoon! I’ll see you on the last Tuesday of next month.
Next up in July: turning classroom doorways into magical portals
I want talk about what you want to talk about! Got questions, suggestions, or requests?
I live and work in New York City and Miami on the historical and current homelands of the Wappinger and Munsee Lenape, and the Seminole and Miccosukee people, respectively. They called these regions home for many years before Dutch, British, Spanish, and American colonizers arrived and stole from them, desecrated their sacred lands, and attempted to eradicate their existence. And still they endure.
This edition is so special. Pls keep talking about our summer selves and how we need to dig into that part of our souls.