Holding On vs. Holding Dear: What Back-to-School Season Taught My Nervous System

Every school year has the same "how are we already back" mixed with "it actually does feel like it's been a while," with a heaping scoop of "I'm so excited to meet my students" mixed-in type of feel. Sometimes I feel the collective weight of those with a complicated relationship with teaching: Genuinely thrilled to be back doing something we love while simultaneously wondering how we're going to survive another year.

My body still braces at the start of the school year, but I don't drown in back-to-school anxiety that I used to. The transition feels smoother because I'm not wasting energy trying to force myself to feel anything other than what I feel, which sounds very la-te-da, but what I mean is I acknowledge the urge to listen to the "shoulds" my brain serves up and tune into other somatic channels (sensation, impulses, pleasure) that feel neutral or even joyful. Even just writing about somatic channels puts my body at ease. Mmm! But I digress.

As an English teacher, it took me nearly a decade to become boundaried about unpaid work (including grading) outside of contract time, and when you realize that a decade is a quarter of my life, the expectation to "have it all figured out by now" becomes ridiculous. I share that timeline not as a badge, but as a marker of pace: This is what's possible, and it's allowed to take the time it takes. Because knowing and understanding are two very different things. Knowing I don't have to brace for a new school year is intellectualizing, but feeling a felt sense of safety even when my body braces is embodiment.

We all know we can't omit stress from our lives, yet many still chase that dream.

My wish is not just for all teachers but for all caregivers, fixers, and women to feel less like they're holding on for dear life and more like they're holding life dear.

That's where I'll leave you. I'm headed to sit with what I hold dear.