The Power of the Pause

Last week, I had the opportunity to deliver several presentations at The Center for Model Schools’ Model Schools Conference. A moment keeps replaying in my mind from the experience this year. It wasn’t during a keynote or a breakout session. It wasn’t even on the agenda. It happened in the hallway—just a quiet exchange of nods and smiles between colleagues who hadn’t seen each other in years. No words were needed. The look said it all: *You’re still here. I’m still here. We’re still doing this.*

That moment, simple as it was, reminded me why I keep coming back to this work. It’s not just about the strategies or the data or the new tech tools—though those matter. It’s about the people. The educators. The ones who show up, year after year, with full hearts and tired eyes, still believing in the power of what we do.

At this year’s conference, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a while: a deep, almost physical sense of belonging. Being surrounded by thousands of committed professionals—people who understand the weight and the wonder of this work—was like taking a deep breath after holding it for too long. There’s a camaraderie among educators that’s hard to explain to anyone outside the field. It’s forged in the fire of long days, hard conversations, and the relentless pursuit of what’s best for kids.

And now, here we are. Summer.

The season that, for educators, is less about beaches and barbecues and more about the sacred art of recovery. It’s the time when we try to remember who we are outside of our classrooms and offices. When we try to reconnect with the parts of ourselves that get buried under lesson plans, emails, and the constant hum of responsibility.

But here’s the thing: we’re not always good at it.

We tell ourselves we’ll rest, but then we fill our calendars with professional development, curriculum writing, and planning meetings. We promise we’ll unplug, but our minds keep drifting back to that one student we couldn’t quite reach, or that initiative we want to launch in the fall. We carry our work like a second skin, and peeling it off—even temporarily—can feel unnatural.

So let me say this, as clearly and kindly as I can: You have permission to stop.

Not forever. Just for a week. One full week.

Not a week where you “sort of” rest while checking your email. Not a week where you squeeze in a few hours of work each day. A real week. A week where you let your mind wander, your body slow down, and your spirit breathe.

Because here’s what I know: When we don’t pause, we break. And when we break, we can’t lead.

The Myth of the Always-On Educator

Somewhere along the way, we started believing that being a great educator meant being constantly available. That the best leaders are the ones who never stop. That if we’re not grinding, we’re falling behind.

But that’s a lie. And it’s a dangerous one.

The truth is, the best educators I know are the ones who know how to rest. They understand that their energy is a finite resource. They know that burnout isn’t a badge of honor—it’s a warning sign. And they’ve learned, often the hard way, that you can’t pour from an empty cup.

So if you’re feeling guilty about taking time off, let me offer you this: Rest is not a retreat from leadership. It’s a requirement of it.

What Recovery Really Looks Like

Recovery doesn’t mean doing nothing. It means doing things that restore you.

For some, that’s sleeping in and reading novels by the pool. For others, it’s hiking, gardening, or finally taking that road trip with no itinerary. It might mean reconnecting with old friends, or spending uninterrupted time with your kids. It might mean journaling, meditating, or just sitting in silence for a while. For those of you like me, it might even mean finally getting around to posting another Substack article.
Whatever it looks like for you, do it without apology. Do it without checking your email. Do it without feeling like you have to earn it.

And if you’re not sure where to start, here are a few gentle suggestions:

- Unplug for real. Turn off notifications. Set an out-of-office reply. Let the silence stretch.
- Move your body. Not for productivity. Not for steps. Just because it feels good.
- Reclaim your mornings. Wake up without an alarm. Let the day unfold slowly.
- Say no. To the extra meeting. To the new project. To anything that doesn’t serve your recovery.
- Say yes. To joy. To rest. To whatever makes you feel most like yourself.

The Work Will Wait

I promise you, the work will still be there when you return. The emails, the planning, the to-do lists—they’re not going anywhere. But you? You’re not replaceable. Your presence, your energy, your heart—that’s what makes the difference.

And if we want to show up fully for our students in the fall, we have to show up fully for ourselves this summer.

So take the week. Take the nap. Take the walk. Take the book you’ve been meaning to read and the playlist you’ve been meaning to make. Take the time to remember what it feels like to be a human being, not just a human doing.

A Final Word from the Hallway

I keep thinking about that hallway moment. The quiet nod. The shared smile. The unspoken understanding between two educators who’ve been through it.

That’s what this work is about. Not the grind. Not the hustle. The connection. The community. The courage to keep showing up.

But showing up doesn’t mean burning out. It means knowing when to step back so you can step forward again with strength and clarity.

So this summer, give yourself the gift of the pause. Not because you’ve earned it—but because you need it. Because you deserve it. Because the students you serve deserve the best version of you.

And that version? It starts with rest.