April is my favorite month of the year. Between birthdays and spring break and the excitement of what’s to come, this month has always had a very special place in my heart. Time seems to speed up and slow down all at once. Recesses somehow get longer, yet the days get shorter. You realize, a little too late, that time is a thief. The students you met at the beginning of the year no longer exist. Instead of being small, innocent kiddos, they’ve transformed into the scholars you’ve molded all year long. The structures you’ve worked so hard to put in place and reinforce are smooth and seamless. Your students “need” you less and less. It’s delightfully heartbreaking. And while all of this quiet transformation is happening, April also brings a lot of “talk”. Contract negotiations are well underway, and teachers decide whether they’re staying put, switching grade levels, or saying farewell. Rumors can (and will) spread as long as people continue to add kindling. In my early years as an educator, I was easily swept into the nonsense of trying to “be in the know” to feel even a semblance of control over what lay ahead. That illusion was always quickly shattered because change is inevitable, and plans made in April are often laughed at in August. All of the uncertainty and “talk” doesn’t just stay in the teacher’s lounge. Quick conversations before class turn into a game of telephone, and suddenly, information shared in confidence morphs into something that never existed in the first place. It can be a very dysregulating time for the grown-ups, which inevitably seeps into our students’ nervous systems, too. I think it’s important to (re)name that our energy is palpable and shared. When we are grounded and calm in our bodies, even if it’s chaotic around us, our students can tell. They then feel safe enough to settle, which leads to a much more enjoyable learning environment. The opposite is also true- chaotic teacher energy equals triple chaotic student energy. There have been many moments when I’ve had to pause and reflect on the energy I was bringing to my students. Often, it wasn’t even mine—it was the residue of a frustrated colleague. Once I recognized that, I could pause, reframe, and re-engage as my authentic, calm, and sometimes silly self.