It all started with a peanut.

The teacher was offering salty, shelled peanuts to students who answered questions correctly. It was my turn and she asked me the question, something about verbs. Or adverbs. I blurted out the answer, and hands shot up; I watched in horror as the teacher called on another student to answer and give him the peanut. My peanut.

The worst part was that the second I said the wrong answer, I realized my error… but I could do nothing about it. My peanut was gone.

For teachers, therapy isn’t a terrible idea.

Let me back up. Many psychoanalysis programs require new practitioners-in-training to undergo a course of analysis of their own.

The rationale makes sense: journeying with the patient through the muck and mire, the fear and anger and pain, can cause memories to bubble up, complicated feelings, in the analyst. The analyst’s needs and emotions, however, are not relevant in the therapeutic encounter – they can undermine the therapeutic relationship.

The analyst needs to learn how to keep memory and emotion in check – to deal with them appropriately.

True, also, for parents.

Everybody has a morning ritual.

For some people, it’s elaborate. Drinking a pressed-kale smoothie, then Yoga, then seeing what’s new on the Hobbit thread on Reddit.

For others, it’s more bare-bones: get up, fall out of bed, drag comb across head, find way downstairs and drink a cup, look up, notice it’s late. Then, grab coat and hat, make the bus in seconds flat, find way upstairs and have a smoke, etc.

Like that.

The question is not whether you have a ritual, it’s whether the ritual is a good idea for you as someone with one of the hardest jobs on earth.

“If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement, and mystery of the world we live in.” – Rachel Carson

Besides the optional therapist and the mandatory confidant, the mentor plays a major role in helping new educators survive, and intermediate educators thrive. And survive.

You may want to read Part 1, 2, and 3 on Differentiating in Baby Steps first, here.

One incredibly simple model for getting students into pairs for work – and then keeping them in pairs for work – hit me this year (it only took me 10 years to come up with it).

You may want to read Part 1 and 2 on Differentiating in Baby Steps first, here.

The course catalog, my freshman year of college, was almost as fun as a J. Crew catalog. I couldn’t fathom how many options were open to me, and the sense of choosing my own academic destiny was intoxicating.

Why must students wait until college before they can have the autonomy to choose the credits they need to meet their goals?

You may want to read Part 1 on Differentiating in Baby Steps first, here.

The main books on differentiation are by Carol Ann Tomlinson; she stresses that you must enter into differentiating your classroom slowly, and trying one small thing at a time.

The problem with this very true statement is that, well, it’s sort of like the first time I went out for Dim Sum as a 17 year old. The adult friend of my parents said, “You can’t try everything, so just pick a few things and see what you like.”

But everything looked scary. I needed a place to start.

Have you ever seen this cartoon before?

I have, about two dozen times, and it frustrates me. It’s often the first slide in a presentation on differentiated instruction in the classroom, and while yes, it makes a point, it raises some serious concerns.

If I understand the logic: the goldfish should not be asked to climb a tree. Let her, um… do a modern interpretive swim.

You always remember your first: your first car, your first kiss.

This is called the primacy effect, and it’s the reason why I remember the first thing we learned, on my very first day of my educator training, fourteen years ago.

The sage advice we learned on day one?

“When you’re really tired out,” said our professor, “take a day off. Call in sick.”

Amazing. It’s amazing that in one sentence, on day one, the professor taught something deeply sobering, deeply compelling, and deeply affirming – all at the same time:

“Your job will be exhausting,” he was saying, “but showing up and doing it anyway isn’t enough. It’s not even correct. You need to be grounded, rested, and present. If you aren’t those three things, stay home and watch season one of Orange is the New Black. This is a higher calling, and you need to take care of yourself. YOU are the resource. Protect the resource.”

All that I read into my professor’s words. I have not called in sick more than three times in my career, but I know I could, should, and would, and most importantly, I know why.

Allow me to suggest that your summer is for the same thing. Getting your soul in shape for climbing the mountain ahead. Go on vacation somewhere beautiful. Learn to snorkel. Drink Mai Tais. Treat yourself like royalty.

You are a member of the Fellowship of the Ring at Rivendell, before heading into Murkwood. If that went over your head, skip it.

What else should you do over the summer? Here are my five suggestions!

1. Figure Out What You’re Teaching

If you’re a new teacher, you must accept the fact that you will not be “ready” for the school year, per se. Otherwise, there’s no reason this funny meme would exist.

That said, emergency rooms teach us to conduct triage: taking care of the patient who, essentially, is bleeding the most.

Twice in my career, I started the school year unsure what texts we would study. As a new teacher, if you have unclarity about what you are teaching, that’s where the bleeding needs to be stopped. Make an appointment with your current or future supervisor, and see if you can get some commitments about what you will be expected to cover.

2. Block Out Your Units on a Calendar

A unit should contain: a day or two of an interesting introduction to the unit, several days for coverage, a summative (mid-unit quiz), and some sort of wrap-up project or assessment. Units are generally two weeks to a little over a month. Spend your summer designing as many of the projects / assessments as possible. You will be able to bang out a quiz at 11:30 the night before you give it. You will not be able to design a project at 11:30 the night before – although I have done it. And my students would be the first to say: they could tell.

One rule of thumb: every unit will go way too long. Be sure to put the least essential unit last. You might run out of time.

3. Get your tools ready

Going to use an iPad this year? A laptop cart? Googledocs? ClassDojo? You will have a harder time learning the apps, platforms, and websites at 5:30pm on a weekday after grading a pile of quizzes. Spend your summer learning (and exploring) new tools for teachers. Surf Edutopia.com for new ideas. Do NOT exhaust yourself learning every tool out there. Choose a few and practice.

4. Decide on your policies

How do you handle tardiness? Do you give extra credit? What behavior would lead you to send a student out of the room. What do you do if a student is passing notes? Surfing the web during class? How do you handle discipline? All these are complicated decisions with major implications for your classes. Don’t decide on the spot. Read and reflect on what your policies will be. If you’re not in your first year, reflect on what did and did not work.

Incidentally, for thoughts on the policies listed above and others, allow me to refer you to my blog entry: 10 Things I Wish I’d Known My First Teaching Year.

5. Cultivate Healthy Practices

It’s pretty hard to start doing yoga, exercising, journaling, or therapy. It’s even harder when it’s two weeks before midterms. Unfortunately, in schools, it’s always two weeks before some cataclysmic calendar event. Choose a couple of spiritually nourishing practices, and begin making a practice of the them while you have a teeny bit more time on your hands.

Those are my Five Tips for the Summer. I’d love to hear from you — what have you tried that made life just a little bit easier come September? Please comment below!