Why teachers need spring break

One of my dear friends from college, Kimmy, wrote a note not long ago about why teachers need a spring break. Oh, how true. I used to think that week-long breaks and summer vacation were one of the perks of teaching. Now I'm realizing that they're completely essential. To help illustrate this, I thought I'd do a run-down of my typical corporate day contrasted with my typical teaching day:

Corporate Day
Between 8:00 and 8:30 - I arrived at work and settled in to my office. I didn't have to be at work at a set time, and if I was 2 minutes late, no one said anything.
From 8:30 to 9 or 9:30 - I would check email, get caught up on blogs, maybe cruise over to a few entertainment websites to get caught up on celebrity gossip. If it was a dreary Monday like today, coworkers would stop by to ask about my weekend to get caught up.
10:00 - My coworkers stopped by my office for coffee break at this time every day. We meandered our way to the break room, stopping to chat with the receptionist by the front door and other coworkers en route.
10:45 - I would get back to my desk, ready to do a little work while listening to my favorite radio station or CD.
12:30 - Lunch time...for an entire hour
1:30 to about 4:00 - I would get most of my work done in the afternoon and would make a point not to bring any work home. "Leave work at work," I would say. I would spend my evenings with Matt and Barley and honestly forget about the office for a few hours.

School Day
7:00 exactly - I arrive at school, correct random student's language in the hall, greet my student in hallway outside my classroom, waiting to make up last week's vocab quiz. "I thought you said you'd be here at 7:00," he says. "It's 7:02. Will you give me a pass to homeroom if I need it?"
7:30 - The student finishes his quiz, but I still have copies to make for first period. I run (quite literally) down the hall to the copy room, wait in line for the "good" copier, frantically make 80 packets of "Are you positive it's an appositive?" stopping after every 5th packet to remove the phantom paper jam.
7:45 - I arrive in homeroom just as the final bell rings. I turn around to write down the names of those who are tardy and quickly scan the room to see who's absent. I turn on the morning announcements and try to convince them that this information is important. I roll my eyes at the anchor who thinks he's funny and one of my kids notices. Oops.
8:15 - In the middle of first period, I realize I forgot to go to the bathroom. But my throat is already getting dry from all this talking. Through the next two periods, I walk a fine tightrope stretched tightly between my need for the bathroom and my need to talk without coughing on my first row. It's a delicate balance, indeed.
10:30 - I've finally made it to the bathroom, and now it's time for lunch...at 10:30 in the morning. My next period starts at 10:55, so I run (quite literally once again) to the office to sign in and check my mailbox, then back up to my room to grab a granola bar and a swig of juice.
12:45 - Two more periods down, and it's time for my "planning" period. I use these 45 minutes to make more copies, stand in the hallway on patrol ("Take your hood off, please." "Watch your mouth! That's why we study vocabulary." "Put her down. Show a little respect."), and check in with another teacher about a student who has given both of us problems recently. The other teacher tells me that the girl told her she wants to be pregnant. This is hardly a surprise, but is disturbing nonetheless.
1:30 - My last class comes in. This is my favorite group of the day, but even the best students get unruly by the end of the day in the spring. I try to keep them busy, but sometimes the dog and pony show or three-ring circus that they expect from me just isn't enough.
2:15 - The final bell rings, and get caught up on emails from the day, enter grades and sort through the work that needs to be brought home that night. I make one more trip to the office, encounter 3 or 4 more teachers, administrators or guidance counselors in the hall and tell a student to pick up the wrapper she just threw on the floor.
3:00 - I'm heading home with a bag of papers to correct and a flash drive waiting to be filled with inspirational lessons for the next day. By the time I get home (and eat something, since that probably hasn't happened much this time), it's 4:00. I'll spend until 7 or 8:00 correcting papers and preparing for the next day. If I don't go to bed by 9:00, I'm worthless when the alarm goes off at 5:00 the next morning.

Yes, my corporate days were often more hectic, and my school days occasionally have a little more down time, but this really paints a pretty accurate picture. Teaching is like racing to five very important meetings every day. And unlike my corporate meetings where I could show up a few seconds late and I was usually just a meeting attendee, I have to be at least five minutes early to all my meetings and be ready to lead 30 meeting attendees who failed to look over the minutes from our last meeting and who failed to prepare as they were supposed to...and who can't be fired.