It's hot. Real hot. Again. And you know how that makes me feel? Lazy. We have three dogs and, when it's 108F outside and the pavement is the internal cooking temperature of an overdone pork chop, you'll see them all napping on the tile floor, stretched out, doing nothing, enjoying the coolness of the tile without a care in the world. Okay, to be fair, they do that on cold days, too, but still. It makes me want to do the same on something a bit softer: and, why shouldn't I? (Beach effects?) It's summer vacation! It's a time for relaxation, lazy days, catching up on me-time, and allowing yourself to literally just do nothing. Or is it? (Intro) Obviously it isn't because here I am doing this and this definitely falls into the "work" category. So, speaking of work, how did this whole summer vacation thing start? Initially, in the early 19th century, public schools didn't have the 9 month 3 month split like we have today. Instead, they worked on two terms: summer and winter. Why? Well, for the rural population, you plant in the spring and harvest in the fall. Students living in urban areas that weren't reliant on farming had a different kind of school calendar: upwards of all but 4 weeks of the year in session. So imagine that: an average of three months of straight schoolwork and one then one week off, year-round. Sounds pretty brutal if you ask me. And clearly they felt the same way as, since attending school wasn't required by law, it wasn't unheard of for something like a third of students actually ended up attended the whole time. This bothered some people, as you can imagine. Horace Mann and his contemporaries set out to fix this problem by standardizing the school year across locations, getting a handle on the truancy problem in the growing cities while ensuring the rural students weren't lagging behind in their educations. As one would expect, looking at when a single larger break could fit into both urban and rural schedules, the summer was the obvious choice. It didn't impact farming, for one. And also, think of something that wasn't around in the mid 19th century. Air conditioning. Sticking a few dozens students in a single room with no A/C was not only detrimental to learning but was a serious health concern. So, summer it was. And still is. Though that's changing. Speaking of changes to calendars, let's clear this up real quick: daylight savings was not about getting more hours of farmwork out of the kids on summer vacation. Daylight Savings Time began in 1918 as a way to be more cost and fuel efficient. (Spoiler: in some places it backfired, but that's a different episode.) The current US academic year for public schools averages 180 days but is often calculated in total hours and can be different for grade levels. The hours lost to snow days must be made up, for example. When I was in school at the end of the last century (wow, that's weird when you put it like that) we attended in 6-week terms, one starting immediately after the previous one ending. We had a single, long summer break and a small winter break, plus all the obligatory holidays. Shortly thereafter, when I was already gone, there was a move toward a year-round cycle of 9-week terms followed by 3-week vacations in order to maintain that 180 day academic year. And that academic year length is not universal. South Korea's academic year is 220 days long. Japan's is 243. In fact, according to the Pew Research Center and the Organization for Economic Cooperation and Development, "Among 33 mostly developed nations, annual “total intended instructional time” averaged 790 hours for primary students (ranging from 470 hours in Russia to 1,007 hours in Chile)" while "For the international equivalent of U.S. middle-schoolers, average annual required hours increased to 925 (ranging from 741 hours in Sweden to 1,167 hours in Mexico)." The interesting thing here is that instructional time rules are set by the states, so there can be variety from one state to another. Texas, for example, requires 180 days at 7 hours per day (which includes lunch and recess and whatnot), meaning 1,260 hours throughout the year. Minnesota has no requirement for the minimum number of days, only hours. Colorado clocks in at an even 160 days while Louisiana comes in at 177. So, yeah, variation. So what about summer school, as it's called? We offer college classes in the summer and they're very popular. But why would anyone want to give up their me-time just to spend more time with me over the summer (beyond the obvious reasons, of course). Well, and this may come as a surprise: life happens. The presumption is always, of course, that if you signed up for classes in the fall or spring that you successfully completed those classes and you're still on schedule to graduate when you'd planned. And that doesn't always happen. Summer is a great time to make up for those kinds of situations. Or, perhaps, you just want to retake a class to improve your GPA. Happens all the time. Or, heck, perhaps you just want to graduate earlier than planned. Summer classes provide for that opportunity, as well. I did it virtually every year in my undergrad and graduate work. I actually enjoyed the summer classes, too. Summer classes are typically shorter and more intense. Heck, you may find some classes that are just a few Saturdays from 8-5. Again: intense but for some people they work really, really well. Plus, if you worry about falling out of practice or getting out of that learner-mindset, summer's a great way to keep that pot boiling. Sometimes classes you need to take get cancelled. Sometimes those classes are pre-reqs for other classes that you also need to take. Summer can also provide opportunities to get those pre-reqs in so you don't throw off your schedule. Of course, your financial aid may not cover summer classes. That's something you'd need to look into. It also, on the flip-side of staying in learner-mode... means you're always in learner-mode. And that can, for some, be a bad thing. Time to decompress can be indispensable for some. So while there are logistical considerations for what to do over summer break, there's also just that: how do you mentally deal with being "on vacation." So let's say you do actually get a summer vacation. Maybe you're a college student not taking classes or you're a teacher like me. Or maybe you just save up your vacation days and get away for a nice chunk of time. Perhaps you're self-employed and you work it that way. Whatever, doesn't matter. Let's talk about vacation and what it does to you. Did you know, on average, US workers get 13 days of vacation a year? That's on average. An even more striking fact is that a third of people don't even use all their vacation time, missing out on roughly 3 days a year. Ten days. Ten days a year. Ugh. France averages almost 40. Yeah. There's a pervasive work culture in the US that doesn't so much champion work-your-fingers-to-the-bone as it just kind of... expects it. And I'm very much guilty of this. Even on vacation, when I'm in another hemisphere with no internet connection and no way to even get work done, I start feeling guilty. "If you have time to lean you have time to clean," kinda thing. I mean, I'm on vacation right now and I've spent the last week working. I really do struggle with actually disconnecting, so if you feel that way, too, know you're definitely not alone. But here's the thing: vacation is actually good for you. Like... really good. And there are some ways to actually psychologically make the best of your time off if you can swing it (links to sources and whatnot in the shownotes, as always): Plan ahead. This might mean doing some extra long days before the vacation but if you can make sure that as much as is possible is done and running on auto-pilot before you leave, you'll actually be removing the handle from that pump: there's nothing for you to do (okay, there's always something, but you know what I mean). Get off the grid. You don't have to give your friends and family on social media a livestream of your vacation. If you struggle with that, try to keep all your pictures offline until you get home and actually take a little notebook or journal with you on vacation. Write things down. Then, when you get home, you can make one big adventure or share it however you want. Likewise, if you do have to get some work done, simply log on, do precisely what needs to be done, offer no more of your time than what that took, and go away again. An out-of-office email can help, too. Assume all is well. I would imagine that, with very few exceptions, there are no emergencies at work that need your immediate attention and only your immediate attention. Be an optimist. Expect everything will go swimmingly. Of course, that's very work-vacation focused but it's not unheard of for folks with the quote-unquote "traditional" summer vacation to act in very similar ways. I have colleagues that will put up their OOO response the day grades are submitted, log out of their work email on their phones, and genuinely (and I mean literally) not think about work until their contract technically resumes the week before classes start. I'm absolutely envious of that ability. I just can't do it. And I'm definitely not alone in that. Which is why I'm doing this. And, speaking of this, I think that's enough for today. I'd say I'm going to turn everything off and go have some me-time, but I'll probably do what I always do: go work on something. Do as I say, not as I do, everyone.