entry eighteen

 Thursday, April 3, 2025

    After a long day in my inclusion classroom—navigating IEP goals, redirecting behaviors, adapting and modifying lessons on the fly, administering several assessments, and giving every ounce of patience and empathy Tonight, I have I came home completely drained. Once the dogs were walked and fed, I collapsed on the couch and turn on the television. Lately, I’ve been binging crime dramas. There was something oddly soothing about the predictability of the episodes: there’s a mystery, a conflict, and by the end, some version of justice is usually served. It was not connected to school. It was not emotional labor. It did not demand anything from me - and that alone feels like a small gift.

    I’ve been asking myself—does this count as self-care? The term often feels loaded with pressure. Shouldn’t self-care be more active? More productive? Like journaling, meditation, yoga? And yet, when I’m curled up on the couch with my dogs at my feet and a show playing, I feel myself exhale. My shoulders relax. My mind slows down. I’m not analyzing student data or replaying difficult moments from the day. I’m simply... resting.

    Maybe that’s the key. Self-care doesn’t always have to be glamorous or “Instagram-worthy.” Sometimes, it’s giving myself permission to unplug and feel okay about it. Maybe that’s what I’ve been missing—guilt-free rest. As a teacher, I often feel like I have to justify every minute that’s not spent planning, grading, or researching interventions. But when I watch TV, I’m not multitasking. I’m not pushing myself. I’m just being and I need more of that. If watching a crime drama helps me reset, helps me show up tomorrow with a little more energy and a little more patience, then yes—it’s self-care. Not the kind that makes headlines, but the kind that keeps me going.

    I’m learning that self-care isn’t always about big changes or trendy habits—it’s about what restores me. Watching TV may seem passive, but for me, it’s a lifeline. It allows me to shift out of “teacher mode” and just exist without pressure. In those quiet moments on the couch, I feel more like myself again—not just a teacher, but a human being. The peace I find in those hours helps me return to the classroom more grounded, less reactive, and more available for my students. If that’s not a form of self-care, then maybe we need to redefine what self-care really means.