End of Term Exhaustion

t’s the last week of term;

for kids, for teachers… and yes, for parents too.

You can feel it in the air. That unhinged mix of exhaustion, adrenaline, and an overdose of squash.

Everyone’s limping toward the finish line, like footballers after a gruelling season - and no one’s pretending otherwise.

To all the teachers:

You’ve made it through exams, observations, “I forgot my homework,” slime where slime should never be, and 4,000 hours of “Miss! Miss! MISS!”

You’ve aggressively circled the same spelling error so many times your pen’s dried out.

It’s not spelt ‘definatly.’

You’ve navigated playground politics, nosebleeds, special assemblies, and at least one lesson where half the class inexplicably coughed and coughed, progressively louder.

A private joke that you were left out of, like a fly on the other side of the window.

And you’ve done it all while being part educator, part counsellor, part bouncer.

Honestly, the fact you haven’t walked out, turned feral yourself, or taken up vodka by lunchtime is nothing short of heroic.

You deserve every moment of the upcoming break - and a bit more!

To the parents:

You’re five pick ups away from six straight weeks of snack negotiations, soft play purgatory, and wondering if screen time limits were ever anything more than a fantasy.

An idealistic idiot’s guide to being a ‘great parent’ forgot to mention the Bear Grylls style survival skills required.

Your fridge is already groaning in anticipation.

Yes, you love your kids more than life itself - but you also fear the phrase “Can I have another chocolate?” more than you fear death.

And now’s the time of year where your appreciation for teachers blossoms like a rose on fast-forward.

Because no, we really couldn’t do it without them. Not even close.

(And for those still grumbling about the length of the summer holidays: it takes at least three full weeks for a teacher’s nervous system to stop convulsing. Let them have this.)

To the kids:

You’re bouncing off the walls.

You’re running on sunshine, endorphins, and the painstaking unravelling of routine.

You’ve stopped bringing in your water bottle, your jumper, and any concept of rules. Anarchy reigns.

You’re clapping at pigeons, sprinting in corridors, and demanding to play Duck Duck Goose at 7:45am.

We get it. It’s been another long year.

And now it’s school report time - the most poetic time of the academic calendar.

Where vague phrasing meets forensic parental analysis.

You’re no longer just a parent. You’re a codebreaker.

“A joy to have in class” = Talks too much, but they’re funny, so we allow it.

“Could apply themselves more” = We’re not sure they’ve been fully conscious this term.

“Has shown great initiative” = Has stopped falling into the toilet.

“Works best independently” = Struggles with group work. And people.

“A natural leader” = Thinks they are the teacher.

Let’s be honest - it’s been a year. The kind of year that felt like it had 19 terms in it. Everyone’s been clinging on by the velcro of a battered school shoe. Attendance’s been dodgy, patience has been patchy, and if one more themed day popped up without warning, someone was going to snap. But somehow; despite the chaos, the germs, the glitter, the guilt, and the endless WhatsApp groups screenshotting mundane emails - you made it. You absolute legend. And frankly, making it deserves a medal. Or at the very least, a silent sit in a dark room for a few days.

So whether you’re crawling toward summer, counting down the hours, or just praying the school shoes hold out a few more days…

Take a breath.

You’ve done brilliantly.

The wine is chilled. The uniform can stay in the drawer. Your patience has been reset.

The countdown begins.