By Chance Copeland 

Last month, my four years of graduate school drew to a close. The end snuck up on me, as I’m sure it does for many of you, sandwiched between family obligations, job interviews, and home-improvement projects that I had absolutely no business attempting. I’d been holding my breath for so long that I hadn’t considered the exhale, nor had I really imagined what life would look like after I walked across the stage. I certainly hadn’t considered celebrating. In fact, I planned to do the opposite: I was going to paint the basement, hang some string lights over the back deck, and spend more time being a “present parent” for the brothers I’m raising.

When my wife suggested that we throw a graduation party on the day of my graduation, I actually scoffed at her, told her it sounded overwhelming, and said, “besides, who would want to come to a graduation party anyway?”

She responded simply, with a knowing smile and five words: “I’ll take care of it.” I grunted an “okay” and forgot about it until the day of, when an army of people who have impacted my life showed up in my living room to celebrate the milestone. It was unexpectedly lovely, even for an introvert who often feels anxious in loud, crowded spaces and hates being the center of attention. When my friends and family asked me how it felt to be finished, I told them honestly: it felt weird, semi-uncomfortable, and I was ready to go back to work. I don’t like sitting still, I told them, and going from three jobs to zero felt awfully close to sitting still. “You should celebrate,” one friend told me. Another said that sitting still would be good for me after pushing myself so hard for so long. I brushed it off, but when I reflected on her words later, I found an uncomfortable truth in them. Even though I could argue it came from a place of necessity, I’d trained myself to keep moving into the future. At some point, I’d become so future-oriented that I’d stopped looking behind me to acknowledge how far I’d come.

If I were sitting with a client who told me the same thing, I might challenge their ambivalence about celebration. I would tell them that celebration builds perception of social support, increases prosocial intentions in all of us, and deepens connection. I would also tell them that celebrating milestones releases dopamine in the brain, can moderate the impacts of burnout, and decreases stress. But when my own achievements are involved, I’m more likely to go home and mow the lawn and “forget” to tell anyone.

 If this sounds familiar, you may also be wondering how to find time to celebrate when our lives are already jam-packed, and the answer is surprisingly simple: make it routine. Your celebration could be a coffee at the end of the workweek. It could be five minutes on a Saturday morning jotting down three things you’re proud of from the week before. It might be sitting on a bench in your favorite park or lunch at your favorite restaurant. It could be something bigger, like a trip planned for a major milestone (although you actually have to plan it if that’s the case). It probably isn’t mowing the lawn or painting the basement, but if that truly feels like celebration to you, that’s okay too (just don’t invite me). What your celebration is matters less than actually committing to carrying it out and the acknowledgment that we all have something to celebrate. We survived another school year, a tumultuous political landscape, difficult personal and professional relationships. We all kept showing up, in spite of feeling overwhelmed. The people we work with did too, and it can be surprisingly powerful to recognize their achievements alongside our own.

So, instead of providing a list of all the ways you could celebrate progress in yourself and your team members (which would likely be inadequate for a group of teachers and administrators who spend their careers making plans for just these types of interventions), I’ll simply say this: pay close attention. When you do, you’ll find that there are a thousand things worth celebrating in us and everyone around us (yes, even those we don’t enjoy) - and that celebration drives our continued growth.