Years ago (although I can remember it like it was last week) I sat down at my dining room table at the beginning of summer with a piece of paper and what I thought was a really good plan. I was going to write down all the things I wanted to do during my summer break. I wasn’t working and I wasn’t taking classes – the first in a long time. I felt like I had endless time.
My list looked something like this:
- Organize the condo and finish the to-do list
- Take vitamins and run every day
- Read 10 books
- Learn investing
- Train Soleil (dog)
- Reconnect with friends and family – on a personal level
- Visit home at least once a month
- Finally tackle all the things I never had time for during the school year
And somewhere hidden inside all of those goals was an unspoken self-imposed expectation: Become a better version of yourself by August.
Maybe you’ve made a list like that too.
The kind that starts with excitement. The kind that feels hopeful. The kind that quietly turns summer into another season of achievement.
As educators, we are incredibly good at setting goals.
We set goals for students.
We set goals for teams.
We set goals for classrooms.
We set goals for ourselves.
We are planners. Builders. Dreamers. People who look at an empty calendar and think, ‘Look at all the possibility!’
Every summer felt like a chance to reinvent myself.
What I didn’t realize was that I wasn’t really building a summer… I was building another performance season.
The shift happened when I started noticing something that felt hard to admit:
I was busy.
I was productive.
I was doing “all the right things.”
And I still wasn’t joyful.
Life felt more like it was happening to me than something I was actively participating in and co-creating. I could check things off my list and still not feel restored. I could accomplish a lot and still feel like I had missed the point.
So I started asking a different question. Instead of: “What can I accomplish this summer?” I started asking, “What do I want this summer to hold?”
That question changed everything.
Because when I looked closer, I realized I didn’t actually want a perfectly organized house.
I wanted more ease.
I didn’t want to become a completely different person.
I wanted to feel more like me again.
I wanted more moments of joy.
More energy.
More connection.
More mornings that felt unrushed.
More time outside.
More space to think.
More room to breathe.
And slowly, things started to shift.
Not overnight.
Not in some dramatic movie moment.
Just little choices.
More walks. More intentional routines. More moments that felt good while I was living them.
I kept coming back to that question whenever I caught myself in a moment of “clear the to-do list” and it made that summer feel lighter. More enjoyable. More like something I was actually experiencing.
Then a few days into the school year, I noticed something. I was still doing my morning routine. I wasn’t rushing. I wasn’t already operating from behind. I felt calm. Grounded. Steady.
For the first time in my teaching career I was a month into the school year thinking, “Oh… this feels different.” Not because life had become easier, but because I had built routines, boundaries, and moments of joy that came with me.
And that changed everything.
Summer doesn’t usually disappear because we are lazy, it disappears because we are recovering.
We are catching up.
We are finally handling the appointments, errands, projects, cleaning, paperwork, and life maintenance that got pushed aside all year.
We tell ourselves we’ll rest once we’re caught up.
And suddenly, back-to-school displays show up, and we are wondering where the summer went.
When we intentionally focus on what we want this summer to hold, rather than what we want to accomplish, we see that catching up isn’t the goal – feeling good while we do the catching up (because we’ve built in moments of fun and joy throughout the tasks we need to complete) is what makes us win the break.
So this year, I want to ask you a different question. If this summer felt successful… what would be true by August?
Maybe you would feel:
More rested.
More connected.
Healthier.
More creative.
More present.
More joyful.
Maybe you would laugh more.
Move more.
Protect your mornings.
Read on the porch.
Spend the day laughing with friends
Take walks.
Reconnect with parts of yourself that quietly stepped aside during the school year.
You do not have to plan the entire summer today.
You do not need another giant to-do list.
You do not need to become a new person by August.
Instead, start here: What do you want more of this summer?
(Circle three)
Joy
Creativity
Connection
Rest
Movement
Adventure
Health
Growth
Simplicity
Play
Relationships
Presence
________ (Insert anything not on this list you want more of)
Now just notice…
Notice what rises.
Notice what you miss.
Notice what you want back because maybe summer isn’t about becoming someone new.
Maybe it is about making space for the person who has been there all along.
And maybe that is enough. More than enough. It might actually be the beginning of a summer you get to experience instead of simply survive.
So this summer, before you ask what you want to accomplish…
Ask what you want to protect.
Ask what you want more of.
Ask what you want this summer to hold.
Because the answer might change everything.
Want support turning this into your best summer yet?
If this message resonated with you and you are ready to move beyond thinking about the summer you want and start intentionally building it, take a look at Lesson Plan for Life.
Lesson Plan for Life was created for educators who want more than another to-do list.
With just 10 minutes a day, you’ll reconnect with yourself, strengthen routines that support you, create meaningful moments of joy, and build habits that help you carry that feeling into the school year.
The goal isn’t perfection.
It’s walking into next year feeling more like YOU.
More grounded.
More intentional.
With stronger boundaries, supportive routines, and tools you can return to—even on the toughest days.
If you’re ready to create a summer you truly get to experience, Lesson Plan for Life may be exactly what you need.
Written by Sarah Fillion 2026
