writing

The Longest Summer Ever: My first attempt at retirement

~ mrsprairie ~ 2 Comments

I keep telling people I’m “retired,” but honestly? It still feels exactly like summer break. Just… longer. As in, the longest summer ever.

You’d think after decades in education, my body would know the difference between “July freedom” and “you actually don’t have to go back in August.”
But no.
Every morning I wake up expecting that telltale flutter in my chest… the quiet mental checklist of meetings, walkthroughs, agendas, and responsibilities.

Instead, nothing. Just the soft, strange realization:
Oh. Right. This is my first attempt at retirement.

My Endless Summer?!

Summer That Never Ends

Let me be clear: I’m not complaining.
There are parts of this “forever summer” that I am embracing with full, unapologetic enthusiasm:

  • No alarm clock.
  • No makeup.
  • No “professional clothes” (whatever those were… I’ve fully forgotten).
  • An alarming number of weekday PJ days… a freedom I never knew I needed.

But there’s also this odd internal clock that refuses to reset.
After a lifetime of school-year cycles, my brain keeps insisting,
Any day now… we go back.

Except we don’t.
Not this time.

My Secret: I Haven’t Really Left School

Which brings me to my confession:
I cannot stay off LinkedIn.

I scroll through it like a retired detective scrolling old case files, muttering, “Ah, yes, I remember that initiative…”

I feel like a Peeping Tom in the international-school community, quietly watching from the bushes while everyone shares learning highlights, leadership reflections, new jobs, updated titles, conference photos, PD takeaways, mentoring moments.

Everyone else is in the proverbial “staff room,” buzzing with the energy of a new academic year.
And I’m standing outside the window like,
“Oh wow, look at that inquiry-based learning celebration! Good for them!”

I’m not in it anymore, but goodness, I still love it. And I can’t seem to walk away from it completely, or even partially.

Where would I be without #tieonline?

Lost-ish, but Fine-ish

So how’s retirement going?
Honestly: a mixed bag.

Some days, I feel unmoored, like I left the dock but forgot to bring the paddles.
There’s no calendar telling me where to be, what to do, or who needs me.

And as silly as it sounds, that can feel a little… lonely.
Or aimless.
Or like I’m waiting for school to start again after a really, really long July.

But then there are the other days… the ones when I think,
“Oh wow, this is actually lovely.”
When the coffee tastes better than it ever did at 6:00 a.m.
When the day unfurls slowly.
When I remember that the whole point of this “longest summer ever” is to rest, reset, rethink.

And, maybe most importantly, to just be.

Laurel Lake (TN) sunset walk

Retirement or Rewirement?

Part of me wonders whether I’m even doing retirement right.
Is it supposed to feel like this?
Is there a handbook? (And if so, does it come with rubrics?)

But maybe this is what a first attempt is supposed to be:
a gentle, sometimes awkward experiment in re-learning yourself outside of job titles and school-year rhythms.

Maybe this “longest summer ever” is the season I needed without ever knowing it –
a season to soften, slow down, and wander a little.
A season to unlearn urgency.
To rethink purpose.
To rediscover curiosity without having to turn it into a workshop, slide deck, or strategic plan.

For Now, I’m Letting Summer Last

I don’t know what comes next.
I don’t even know how long this first attempt at retirement will last.
Knowing me, I might press “rewind” and jump back into something new before long.

But for now?
I’m living inside the longest summer ever… pajamas, coffee, LinkedIn lurking, and all.

And maybe that’s not just okay.
Maybe it’s exactly right.

From Mountain Trails to Savannah Paths: Lessons in Learning and Leading

~ mrsprairie ~ Leave a comment

The landscapes may change, but the heart of learning stays the same.

In my earlier blog, Insight from a Hike: A Story About a Personal Journey and a Metaphor About Learning (March 2020), I shared how hiking in the Colorado Rockies became more than just a physical activity for me, it became a metaphor for learning and personal growth. I started with familiar trails, set small goals, took breaks when I needed to, and celebrated the little victories along the way. Every hike taught me something about perseverance, self-awareness, and the importance of setting a pace that fits the journey you’re on.
Now, my path has led me from the structured trails of Colorado to the open savannahs of Kenya. Here, the landscape is vast, unpredictable, and full of unknowns… much like the journey of lifelong learning. On safari, there aren’t many marked trails or clear signposts. You have to rely on observation, intuition, and adaptability to find your way.

When I think about learning… real, deep learning… I keep coming back to the lessons I’ve picked up outdoors. Whether it’s a slow hike up a mountain or a wide-open safari, the patterns are the same: uncertainty, observation, and collaboration. These experiences remind me that the way we move through the world is the way we learn, and that’s exactly what the ISK Big 5 capture. I’m proud of how our community has embraced this shift. We’re not just talking about skills in the abstract anymore; we’re starting to really see the Big 5 alive in our learning, in our behavior, and in the way we show up for each other, both inside and outside the classroom.

On a well-marked trail, it’s easy to feel confident; the next step is obvious. But on the savannah, the path isn’t always laid out for you. You have to navigate through uncertainty, trust your instincts, and adjust along the way. Learning works the same way. It’s rarely a straight line. Being a strong Self-Manager means staying grounded even when things feel unclear. It’s about knowing what you need, being responsible for keeping yourself moving forward, and finding the resilience to push through when you might feel a little lost. Growth happens when we stop waiting for certainty and just start walking.

On safari, your success often depends on what you notice… the flick of an ear, a shift in the wind, the stillness that wasn’t there a second ago. Learning asks the same of us. As Thinkers, we have to stay curious, ask the kinds of questions that open new possibilities, and reflect on what’s right in front of us. Sometimes the biggest insights don’t come from the loud and obvious; they come from the small details we take the time to notice. Good learning, like good exploring, starts with paying attention.

And nobody goes on safari alone. You lean on your guide’s experience, the sharp eyes of your fellow travelers, the quiet teamwork of a group tuned into the same goal. Learning thrives the same way- through connection. Being a Communicator means listening deeply and sharing ideas in ways that bring people in, knowing that what we say and how we say it matters. Being a Collaborator means building on each other’s strengths, asking good questions, and sometimes compromising so we can move forward together. Exploration, whether it’s across the savannah, in a classroom, or in a big life transition, always gets richer when we’re willing to see through more than just our own eyes.

At the heart of all of this is a mindset that goes beyond managing ourselves, thinking critically, or working together. It’s about what we choose to do with all of that learning. Being a Changemaker means using what we know to make a positive difference… not just for ourselves, but for the communities and the world around us. It means investigating the world, recognizing different perspectives, and taking action with care and purpose. Whether we’re hiking a trail, stepping into a new chapter, or coaching others along their own paths, the real impact comes when we decide to leave things better than we found them.

Although I might enjoy the solitude of a mountain hike, a safari is impossible to do alone. You rely on others… their eyes, their instincts, their energy. When I think back on the safaris I’ve been lucky enough to share, it’s the people that stand out. I learned the importance of patience, how you can sit for what feels like forever, just watching for the slightest flicker of movement deep in the bush. I listened to stories of past adventures that made the experience even richer. I saw a real hunger to learn, not just about the animals, but about the environment, the people, and the bigger picture. I watched how often conversations turned to wondering: How can we show up in ways that help, without letting our privilege get in the way? And through it all, what stood out most was the sense of gratitude and humility. Being out there reminds you how small you are — and how much bigger the world is when you take the time to really see it. That’s what the Big 5 are about too. It’s not just about learning for yourself; it’s about learning alongside others and using what you know to make a difference.

In the end, it’s not about reaching a destination. It’s about learning how to walk, how to notice, how to listen… and how to leave something better behind.