There’s something different about a Sunday night in May when you’re a teacher.
The air feels lighter. The alarm clock suddenly feels disrespectful. And every little inconvenience gets met with the same thought:

“Only a few more Sundays left.”

The closer summer gets, the stranger the emotions become. It’s not just excitement. It’s a weird mix of happiness, exhaustion, anticipation, and nervous energy that shows up somewhere between folding laundry and meal prepping for the week.

You start romanticizing everything.

The morning coffee tastes like freedom.
The sunshine feels personal.
Even the Target dollar section starts whispering, “Vacation version of you is almost here.”

But then the nervousness creeps in too.

Because teachers don’t just “finish work.” We sprint toward the finish line carrying data folders, missing assignments, behavior charts, IEP paperwork, end-of-year testing, classroom cleanup, and emotional support for 22 tiny humans who are also losing their minds because summer is close.

And somehow Sunday becomes the emotional waiting room between survival mode and freedom.

You’re excited for late mornings, road trips, naps that turn into accidental hibernation, and not hearing your name called 437 times before lunch.

But you also feel this pressure to make summer magical.

You start creating unrealistic expectations:

• I’m going to organize my entire house.
• I’ll drink lemon water every day.
• I’m definitely becoming a morning workout person.
• I’ll read 12 books.
• I’m going to glow up mentally, physically, spiritually, financially, and emotionally by August.

Meanwhile, your current reality is laying in bed scrolling TikTok while mentally calculating how many Mondays are left.

And honestly? That’s part of the fun.

The approach of summer feels like standing in line for a roller coaster. You’re thrilled. You’re tired. You’re slightly delirious. But you know something good is coming.

Especially for special education teachers.

By this point in the year, we’ve carried so much emotionally. We’ve celebrated tiny victories nobody else saw. We’ve redirected behaviors, advocated in meetings, rewritten schedules, cried in our cars, laughed with our coworkers, and somehow still showed up every day.

So yes — we deserve to feel excited.

We deserve the countdowns.
The summer Pinterest boards.
The random online shopping carts full of “vacation clothes.”
The dramatic sighs on Sunday evenings.

Because this season right here?
This almost-summer feeling?

It’s hope wearing flip-flops.

Things Helping Me Survive These Last Few Sundays

• A giant iced coffee that feels emotionally supportive
• Oversized teacher tees and biker shorts
• A candle that tricks me into thinking my life is together
• Sunday afternoon naps that accidentally become time travel
• Planning tiny summer adventures before reality and bills arrive

To every teacher feeling that happy nervousness tonight:

You made it closer.
Summer is coming.
And these last few Sundays before freedom?
They hit different.