By late October, even the most dedicated teachers feel the shift: fatigue settles in, light fades, and our sense of meaning begins to blur. But what if true resilience doesn’t come from willpower at all, but from wisdom, the quiet act of recalibration?
The October Dip Is Real
The energy in the hallways shifts. The bright chatter of September has quieted, and the energy in the hallways wanes. Hoodies are up. Heads are down. The students who bounded into class a month ago now slide into their seats, eyes a little weary. The light outside has faded, and so, it seems, has theirs.
It’s not just students who feel it; parents and teachers do too. The shorter days test everyone’s patience; we grow weary with them—and sometimes at them—wondering when their spark will return.
There’s a psychology to the school year. The promise of new beginnings—clean notebooks, new shoes, a burst of optimism—gives way to fatigue. Routines have set in; the novelty has worn off. The romance is over. The temptation is to push harder, demand more. But wisdom requires something different: to pause, read the room, read ourselves, and recalibrate.
The Seasonal Rhythm of Learning (and Living)
In New England, where I’m from, this moment arrives just before the first freeze. Between now and December 21, the light recedes into shorter days. We haven’t turned the clocks back yet, but there’s a subtle malaise—physical, mental, emotional. We feel it in our bones. So do our students.
It’s not a failure. It’s a rhythm and a predictable one. After three decades of teaching, I haven’t met an educator who hasn’t offered some knowing account of what this feels like. And yet, we’re always a little caught off guard. What’s wrong with me? we wonder. And what’s happening to my students or my kids at home? Their motivation is flagging.
Recognizing this rhythm and responding to it with gentleness rather than indignation is one of the small but vital arts of teaching and leading. It’s what keeps a community moving forward with energy and hope, instead of fatigue and blame.
What Recalibration Looks Like
For teachers and school leaders, recalibration begins with putting your own oxygen mask on first: getting real sleep, moving your body, and taking delight in the little things. It means bringing a touch of levity or joy—playing music as students walk in, lightening up, laughing at ourselves.
The goal isn’t to let things slide, but to disrupt the default that creeping sense of drudgery or emerging Eeyore. We can’t power through indefinitely. We can, however, recalibrate to rekindle joy and keep our purpose in sight.
Recalibration as Mind–Body–Spirit Reset
When I’m stressed, my neck and shoulders tighten; I get a low, dull headache. I stop hearing what others are really saying. You probably have your own signals: shallow breaths, restless scrolling, the third cup of coffee before 10 a.m. We can’t teach or lead wisely when our bodies are in overdrive.
Recent research confirms what educators feel by October: when stress persists, we risk losing touch with purpose. A 2023 systematic review in Frontiers in Psychology examined 44 studies involving more than 76,000 teachers and found that lower well-being was consistently linked to emotional exhaustion, detachment, and weakened student–teacher relationships. Global data from the Global Flourishing Study—as reported in the New York Times—reveal a broader pattern: meaning and purpose are declining, especially among younger cohorts.
Both studies underscore that flourishing grows from meaning and connection. The danger isn’t only fatigue—it’s forgetting why we began in the first place.
Recalibration is the deliberate act of pausing when we notice we’re running on empty and choosing a small, restorative action, one that grounds us in the present and helps us turn again toward our true north. It isn’t indulgence; it’s restoration. Without it, our attention narrows and we miss what’s meaningful right in front of us. Before we can act wisely, we need that reset, the pause that grounds us. From this footing, meaning becomes visible again. Recalibration helps us regain our bearings so we can return to leading, teaching, and living with renewed purpose.
Neuroscience supports this: chronic stress narrows our attention and empathy, while recalibration restores them, literally shifting our physiology to make space for connection, meaning, and care. In one 2023 experimental study with university students, even a five-minute rest break before a demanding task improved attention and problem-solving, evidence that short pauses can refresh focus and foster learning.
Recalibration helps us notice what’s happening in our nervous system and make a small shift—one that brings us back to reality and to the people beside us, at home and at work. It might be a walk around the block, a playlist for our commute, a breath before the next class, or a quick laugh with a colleague. These small resets aren’t luxuries; they’re part of the work—your own recalibration toolbox, built from the ordinary practices that restore you.
How Recalibration Restores Connection
Maybe wisdom, at this point in the year, looks less like pressing harder and more like pacing ourselves. Less about control, more about noticing. Recalibration helps us regain perspective—to see that we, too, are learners, still growing alongside the students we serve.
What drew you into education in the first place? Perhaps your belief that young people can flourish or the quiet joy of watching a student finally find their voice in class discussion. These are the things that keep us here. And they’re the same things that can ground us now.
When we recalibrate, when we slow down enough to recover our own sense of direction, we help others do the same. Our steadiness grounds them, reminding students, colleagues, and even our own children that joy is still possible—that the light is still there, even when it’s dim.
The Practical Wisdom of Pausing
Every profession has its seasonal ups and downs. For educators, being mindful of the late-October dip is half the battle. We can’t control the length of days or the length of our to-do lists. But we can choose how we show up and how we respond.
Real resilience doesn’t come from willpower. It comes from wisdom: the quiet strength to pause, recalibrate, and return to what matters.
Dr. Karen Bohlin is Director of Wisdom at Work: Revitalizing School Leadership Fellowship at the Abigail Adams Institute.
Wisdom at Work: Revitalizing School Leadership was made possible through the support of Grant 63617 from the John Templeton Foundation. The opinions expressed in this project are those of the Practical Wisdom Project and do not necessarily reflect the views of the John Templeton Foundation.