Portions of this post originally appeared in March of 2020, when so many things were unknown and scary. Just as I mused back then, I’ve struggled a little with what to write this week. But looking back over some old notes and connecting them to where I am now – I was inspired to write this update. Join us in the conversation!
Recently I’ve been thinking about the first years after my undergrad experience, when I was a middle and high school band director. Yeah, that was a thing that happened. Last week I had a dream about that time period, and recently my almost-grown daughter has been dipping her toe into teaching (interesting to watch). So I’ve become aware of some connections between then and now that give me pause. I was quite the workaholic in those days, which is an ever-present danger no matter what career I’ve dived into. I like to throw myself into things, wholeheartedly, which can be a strength and a curse.
The final weeks of each school year, as any teacher knows, were a stress-filled blur of tension between our need to put an impressive stamp on all the students’ hard work, and their increasingly waning interest in anything we had to say or offer. In my case, the push actually started in January with intense preparation for various competitions and events. It progressed to at least two overnight trips (always, always with an exhausting theme park involved), solo & ensemble preparation, spring concerts, awards, final grades, and preparing for summer. I was on what was called a 10+2 – essentially a 12-month contract – so I taught summer band as well.
Not that any of this was a bad thing. I was quite lucky to have a 10+2 – it was one example of the tremendous support that the school system had for the arts. But what it meant was I had exactly two weeks between the year of 12-hour workdays and the humid mornings I had to show up with a smile, and teach bright-eyed kiddos how to produce their first squeaky sounds and empty their spit valves. Whip out the show tunes and pop songs for the older ones. Start looking at marching drills, and stand in the Tennessee heat shouting counts through a megaphone with the high schoolers.
Intensity in the school music world rarely lets up. So the first week, as soon as I locked the bandroom door, I would shut down and blissfully engage in what I would describe as complete and total unproductivity. I slept until I woke up. I ate leftover Chinese food, or maybe pizza, for breakfast. I read when I wanted to, napped when I wanted to, sometimes 3x’s a day. I went to Blockbuster and rented 3 movies (just like you see people do on Stranger Things, kids!), two of which I usually didn’t even watch.
I did not work out, or make a list, or shop, or clean anything, or call anyone, or learn anything. Sometimes I went to antique stores or to the library and just wandered around. Mostly, I did nothing.
Once, I went with another teacher friend to Florida the minute school let out and we did this unproductivity thing in tandem, near the beach. I recall eating a lot of turkey sandwiches, as we had little motivation to fix anything else, and trying out meditation (a transformative experience). I read one of my all-time favorite books, A Prayer for Owen Meany, for the first time. We placed zero expectations on each other, barely even engaged in conversation, because we both “got it.” That is a rare friend.
Logic is relative. – John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany
I never would have called it a vacation. Vacations require planning and execution and doing things. For my Eisenhower Matrix-knowledgeable friends, I guess what I engaged in was all Quadrant IV stuff (or was it?). The unproductivity was way before husband, children, dogs, business, mortgage, IRAs and 529s, etc. so it’s been a hot second since I’ve thought about it. Perhaps I am only just now appreciating the luxury of it.
The first year my Unproductive Week happened, it was unintentional and reflexive. Thereafter, I made it into a ritual, because oh my gosh the after-effects. Once the week was over, and I slowly started to morph back into “Ms. Smith,” wow, did I have ideas. I was able to think with this amazing clarity and feel enormous hope and motivation. I was excited to see the kids and hear those squeaks as joyful noise and come up with creative lesson plans. New ways of teaching a rhythm or technique would materialize for me, seemingly out of nowhere.
Back in the dark days of 2020, when I’d see all the posts and articles inviting everyone to clear out closets and exercise and register for webinars and pet their dogs and update their websites and play board games and paint the kitchen cabinets, I had to pause. All of those cheerful posts inquiring, “What will you DO with your gift of time??” – I wondered about them.
I guess it’s all cool if you have open time, and it feels good for you to get more stuff done. And if you have young children, I understand it’s impossible to just let everything go (although why not let them eat pizza for breakfast if it makes life a little easier?). I have lots of conversations with clients about unstructured time – like interim times between jobs or school semesters. It can be unsettling, and so we work on how to put a few guard rails in so that the hours don’t just go flying off a cliff.
But also, my weird automated response to stress tends to be “Ah, a free afternoon! How can I make the best use of my open time!? Quick…let me get Google calendar open!” And then, if I’m mindful, I remember sometimes there’s value to being bored. I don’t think you have to have a whole week to get some benefit from planned Unproductivity – mini-retreats of even an hour or two can make a huge difference, as I’ve written before.
It’s been a blissfully crazy-busy 2022, but in a few days, I’ll be taking the first Unproductivity Week I’ve purposefully taken in many years. I can’t wait. I have zero plans (well, ok, I have a dentist appointment), and I’ve put everyone in my circle on notice. All social media is coming off of my phone, and I’m going to lock it down on my computer. I have plenty of books, and trees to stare at.
And when I come back, I’m pretty sure I’ll have some ideas.
Sara- This is a welcome, brilliant post! Before I dive in though, you were a band leader? Who knew? Wonders never cease. And how lucky those kids were to have you as their teacher.
I love the name of “Unproductivity Week.” The idea of scheduling nothing, doing nothing in particular, moving your feet in the sand, staring at the trees, reading some books (or not,) and just leaning into unplanned time IS one of the best things. Our lives have gotten SO planned and busy. What a gift to stop.
For many years, I take an annual beach weekend with my girlfriends. It’s coming up soon. Two of them are teachers, so I understand the crazy year-end stuff that goes on. The four of us put no demands on each other. All we know is there will be beach time and eating time. But how that happens is very chill. We talk or don’t. Read or don’t. Walk or nap. We’re together, but also know how to be separate if needed. No judgment. It’s quite extraordinary and always rejuvenating.
Enjoy your special week! And good for you for leaning into your tree staring time.
Yep, I was a band director! I don’t know how lucky the kids were, but I gave it my best shot :-D. Great that you’re getting to head to the beach soon – it sounds amazing, and how lucky you are to have friends who will chill with you in that way. Thanks for stopping by, Linda!
I love this, Sara. As a former preschool and first grade teacher – I get it. Also, when we lived in Bangkok I choreographed the musical productions for the High School and the Bangkok Musical Society in addition to my day job – teaching. I take unproductive days, weekends, and sometimes weeks when I travel. I unplug from anything electronic and simply enjoy where I am. I take mini-unproductive time multiple times a day when I walk because I do not carry my phone with me. If someone needs me, they can leave a message and I will call back – after my walk. Unproductive time is important to me. Enjoy your time off!
Wow, you lived in Bangkok – that sounds fascinating! I’m liking your idea of walking without the phone…I often think I have to have it so I can listen to a podcast while I walk, but it would be good for me to leave it behind sometimes. Thanks for the idea and the comment, Diane!
I love this, Sara. I hope you have a wonderful week off.
Since I do a lot more creative posts in the past year, I am finding that I need those days regularly to decompress and not do anything. My mind needs to wander, do fun things, or even spend time watching a new series. And, of course, a few naps too. =)
When I come back, I can easily be focused on the projects, ready and excited to share my thoughts.
Naps and mind wanderings – it’s all such good stuff, isn’t it? Thanks for commenting, Sabrina!
I wrote this two years ago (I really should take my own advice sometimes): “I recently took a day off and it did me a world of good. How did I know it was a day off if I’m home 24/7 anyway, and didn’t go anywhere? Well, I purposely did no work. No virtual clients, no planning, no writing, no personal tasks or projects, even. Nothing but guilt-free TV, hot tub, a previously-scheduled Zoom chat, audiobook, and jigsaw puzzle. OK, I did order groceries. But that’s all. Not even laundry. Every time I thought of a task that needed doing, I told myself, “Not today, it’s my day off. Put it on the list.” (My list is ALWAYS handy.) Or, “It’s already on the list. It can wait.” Thanks for the reminder, Sara, of WHY time off — even, like you said, an hour or two — is a good idea!
Guilt-free TV sounds more fun and inviting than “Must See TV” – because really, what is there on TV that we “must” see? I think I’ll steal your idea of having my list close by and I can store a few things up on it for later. I hope you can take another one of those days off soon – thanks for stopping by, Hazel!
I enjoyed reading this. The ability to truly unplug and do nothing is rare. As you point out, if you are a parent of small children, forget it. But what really struck me was that after this week you had enhanced mental and intellectual clarity. WOW. That truly speaks to the wisdom of downtime. True downtime, not plugged into a screen. I think it gives our brains a break in such a way that new neural pathways can open. I think employers should read this and be reminded of how valuable “time off” is, and they should seek to create an environment where employees get as much of this as is possible.
Yeah, brains need a break. I was reminded by someone recently that our frenetic approach to work and life is quite American, and not the way things are done in other parts of the world. We could all learn something by slowing down more. Thanks for the comment, Seana.
You and I were in the same zone this week. Being always-on is unsustainable, both individually and societally, and if we don’t set these kinds of boundaries, we will break (and then, eventually, the world will break, even as it burns).
Having recently given up almost all of the volunteer positions I had (because most weren’t fulfilling at all, and I’d been doing so many of them for so many years), and since I am not responsible for anyone else, I practice a version of your Unproductivity Week in my life in smaller doses, but there’s always the pull of the emails, the forums, the research and writing. It’s hard to stay in your own world (home, town, country) and let go of everything; and it’s rare to leave your world and not have different sorts of must-dos. (I mean, how do you take two weeks off to go to another country and not see sites and learn things? Perhaps we all need sabbatical years so that we have time to refresh on a longer-term basis AND refresh from that one-year life with days off? So much to consider.
Delight in your time away!
Ah yes, volunteer positions. Even as I love to volunteer, I know those opportunities take a lot of energy. It’s great that you practice Unproductivity in chunks, although sometimes it’s hard for me to get in that place of total letting go without a bit of an onramp – like a day or so of wandering around thinking,”Wait, did I respond to…?” “Did I remember…?” before I can settle in. And what would a whole year away do?? I can’t even imagine. Thanks for commenting with your wise thoughts, as always.