Yesterday, I hit “submit” on my last grade, clicked “approve” on the final yearbook page, and felt the shift.

The hum of urgency that’s been buzzing in the background for weeks finally went quiet. My brain, which has been moving at spreadsheet speed and fueled by daily tanks of caffeinated green tea, slowly began to unclench.

The yearbook is done.
My grades are in.
And I am—finally—on spring break.

There’s a certain kind of bliss in being done. Not forever, not dramatically—but just done enough. Done for now.
The kind of done that lets you sleep a little deeper. Breathe a little slower. Wear your Sunday shorts on a weekday and not explain a damn thing.

And honestly? I’m proud. Not just of myself for navigating the last few weeks without spiraling into old patterns—but of my students.

The yearbook staff pulled off something beautiful. My English crew? They spent the last two weeks crafting sonnets, haiku, odes, and limericks—piecing together their own collection of poetic talent.

They showed up. They experimented. They revised.
Some found their voice. Some took creative risks.
And some simply kept going when things felt heavy—and that matters just as much.

Watching them reflect and create and, in many cases, completely soar was a gift. They earned their break just as much as I earned mine.

And now, I’m not rushing into the next thing.
Not yet.

Right now, I’m sitting in the pause. Letting the quiet settle. Letting pride stretch its legs.
I don’t need a plan. I need a moment.

So here’s to the in-between.
The breath after the work and before the next wave.
The place where we remember who we are when we’re not trying to prove anything.

Mantra: I am allowed to pause. I am proud of the work. I do not need to rush.