The energy in a school at the end of a term is something else. There’s this frantic hum of finishing assessments, finalising reports, and planning for the holidays, all while trying to keep the students engaged as their focus starts to drift. I can feel it in the staffroom, I can see it in the kids. We're all running on fumes, pushing through to that finish line.
It's easy to wear that exhaustion as a badge of honour. We often talk about needing a break, but the unspoken message in our culture is that rest is something you have to *earn* after a period of intense work. It’s the reward, not part of the process itself.
This got me thinking about farming, of all things. Farmers know that you can't just plant the same crop in the same field year after year without consequences. The soil becomes depleted, the nutrients run out, and eventually, it stops producing. To keep the land healthy, you have to let it lie fallow—to leave it unsown for a period to restore its fertility.
There’s no judgment in that. It’s not seen as laziness or a failure of the field; it’s just a vital part of a sustainable cycle.
Why don’t we treat our minds and our energy like that? We try to operate at full capacity, all the time. We scroll on our phones during our lunch breaks, fill our weekends with errands, and wonder why we feel so drained. We never give our mental soil a chance to recover.
I see this with my students. They're pushed to be constantly learning, achieving, and participating. When they're not doing schoolwork, they're often on social media, consuming even more information. I wonder what would happen if we taught them the value of being fallow—of having moments where nothing is expected of them, where they can be bored, and let their minds wander without a goal.
It’s not about procrastination or avoiding responsibility. It’s about recognising that rest, quiet, and even boredom aren't empty spaces. They are the moments when the soil of our minds restores its fertility. It's where creativity and new ideas can finally take root.
So as this term winds down, I’m giving myself permission to be fallow. Not just to "recharge the batteries" so I can work harder next term, but to respect the natural cycle of things. To let the ground rest.
Peace.