My summer doesn't officially begin for another week, but I am already planning all the things I want to get done, all the things I need to get done, in the very few short weeks I have "off". (I use quotations because teachers know we are never really "off"--uncompensated work stuff still happens throughout the summer). Cleaning and reading, learning and crafting, traveling and exercise and more cleaning are written down in colorful ink in my planner.
I already know that if I'm lucky, half of those plans will come to fruition.
I will sleep later, stay up later, and have less focus than I am planning on. There will be days when absolutely nothing gets accomplished, except maybe a nap on the couch and coffee made. There are sections of the house that may look exactly the same as they did on June 8th, my first day of "summer break".
After twenty-eight years in this biz with summer playing out the same way every year, I am okay with that kind of failure. This year, I planned every minute of every workday for over 183 days with a lot of pandemic pivoting and mindshifting, and accomplished an awkward, fairly successful version of a library program.
If my summer plans fall through, it means that my body, mind, and spirit needed something else to restore operating capacity for the coming school year. The tank needs to be filled before the car can go...so I am planning to fail spectacularly this summer. And that feels good.