Dear colleague,
There are only a few basic ways to end a school year now that we're in countdown territory:
- Limping Mode: There's a spectrum here. It can range from checked-out zombie stumbling through motions (a symptom of burnout) to the existential-question-spouting, instinctively-job-searching apostate (a symptom of demoralization). In my career, I hit Limping Mode hard at the end of my third year of teaching — I ended up quitting that summer — and more recently, I hit Limping Mode during the spring of 2023 (it was one of those years, but on steroids). Sometimes, this is just a spot that we find ourselves in. With all this year's national and international tumult, its student motivation apocalypse-ness, its mind-boggling advancements in AI… there's a good chance you're here right now. But since it's basically a survival mode, a soul-grinding slog experience, we definitely don't WANT to be here. (More on that in a bit.)
- Striving Mode: This is the other side of the spectrum. Rather than limping, you're manifesting that pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps aura. Surveying the list of things you intended to accomplish this year, calculating the dwindling number of days remaining, you don't say, “To heck with it.” No, not you. Instead, you dramatically intensify your efforts, squeeze the orange extra hard, and you get after it. Mere mortals fall behind as you burn forward, a blazing comet of educational intensity. This characterized years one and two of my career (now remember: I quit after the third). More recently, I experienced this in 2015 and 2017 — years I was a Michigan Teacher of the Year Finalist while simultaneously rolling out a new open-enrollment AP World History course for ninth graders. It can seem inspiring for a minute until you realize how unlikely it is to sustain this kind of intensity over the duration of a career. (And remember: careers are perhaps the most remarkable forms of greatness.)
So what's the better alternative?
I didn't invent it, but I've seen it's power in myself and in others too many times to count. It's called “the Focused Finish.”
- The Focused Finish: This is where, at the start of spring (e.g., during March), you ask yourself things like:
- “If I could only improve at one to three aspects of my practice between now and summer, which would make the biggest difference?”
- “If I had to run one to three experiments between now and year's end, what experiments would I run?”
- Rather than trying to do everything or just surviving until June, you channel your limited energy toward deliberate, high-impact improvements. You pick a thing or two that you've wanted to try or improve and you say, “Instead of aiming to improve this next year, what if I tried improving it right now?”
The Focused Finish is how I've finished most years of my teaching career. And it's more than a small part of the reason I'm still a teacher today.
Why the Focused Finish Works When Other Approaches Fail
The final quarter of the school year is special, in good ways and bad ways. On the good side, you've got mountains of experiential data about your students. You know 'em. You've seen what works and what doesn't. You've got some relational capital stored up and routines established that can serve as a “normal” from which to experiment.
But on the down side, you're also tired. Your students are tired. And this year especially, you're likely stressed by a world embroiled in change and uncertainty.
But these pros and cons of the fourth quarter are WHY the Focused Finish is a better path than limping or striving:
Unlike Limping Mode, the Focused Finish maintains your sense of purpose and professional growth. Rather than disengaging and counting days, you remain invested in meaningful improvement. Paradoxically, using a bit more effort aimed at growth versus the bare minimum effort aimed at survival ends up creating energy rather than depleting it.
Unlike Striving Mode, the Focused Finish acknowledges your limited bandwidth. It applies the reality that you're a finite creature with a whole life outside of teaching. Instead of trying to accomplish everything (and likely sacrificing much to do so, including the quality of those accomplishments), you channel your efforts toward what you, as a professional, sense will matter the most. In the long-term, the Focused Finish makes you way better than sporadic years of intensity.
Next time, I'll come with a little tool you can use to identify what you'd like to focus on.
Until then, I'm curious: Which of these three patterns describes your typical end-of-year approach? And what might change if you tried something different this time around? And if you've been a Focused Finisher before: What happened?
Teaching right beside you,
DSJR
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