The Quiet of Summer: A Professor’s Reflection in Uncertain Times
By Sylvie Edwards | When summer hits, professors trade busy classrooms for quiet reflection—feeling both free and a little lost, but finding new purpose in the stillness.
By Sylvie Edwards for Sankarsingh-Gonsalves Productions
As the final grades are submitted and the last emails to students are sent, a hush falls over the campus. The once-bustling corridors of our college now echo with silence, broken only by the occasional hum of maintenance work or the rustle of leaves outside the office window. For many professors, summer is a time of renewal—a chance to travel, research, write, or simply rest. But for some, especially those not teaching during the break, the onset of summer brings a more complex mix of emotions, particularly in times of uncertainty.
There is, at first, a sense of relief. The academic year is demanding, filled with lectures, meetings, deadlines, and the emotional labor of mentoring students. The end of the semester offers a moment to exhale, to step back from the relentless pace and reclaim a bit of personal time. Yet, this relief is often tinged with a strange emptiness. The structure that once dictated the rhythm of each day is suddenly gone, and in its place is a vast expanse of unstructured time.
For professors who are not teaching over the summer, this can feel like drifting. The absence of a classroom, of students’ questions and the dynamic energy of discussion, leaves a void. There is no syllabus to revise, no office hours to hold, no lectures to prepare. While this freedom can be liberating, it can also be disorienting. Without the familiar scaffolding of teaching responsibilities, some professors find themselves questioning their purpose or productivity.
I remember the first summer I became full time at the College and how lost I was that I was not teaching from June 23rd to August 23rd. Most of my family and friends said that I was lucky to have such a nice break while I started looking for ways to fill and structure my time. I did end up cleaning and reorganizing 4 closets and while my house was in order my brain was a little bit lost.
This feeling is amplified in times of broader uncertainty—economic instability, institutional changes, or global crises. The security of academia, once taken for granted, may feel more fragile. Will funding for research continue? Will enrollment numbers affect departmental stability? Will the college’s priorities shift in ways that marginalize certain disciplines? These questions linger, casting a shadow over what might otherwise be a peaceful break.
There is also the emotional toll of disconnection. Teaching is, at its core, a deeply human endeavor. It involves relationships, dialogue, and the shared pursuit of knowledge. When that is paused, especially for an extended period, it can lead to a sense of isolation. The professor who once stood before a room full of curious minds may now spend long hours alone, reading, writing, or simply thinking. While solitude can be intellectually fruitful, it can also be lonely.
Yet, within this quiet, there is also opportunity. The summer months, unburdened by the immediate demands of teaching, offer space for reflection. Professors may revisit long-abandoned research projects, explore new areas of interest, or engage in creative pursuits. Some may use the time to reconnect with their own learning, reading not for a syllabus but for the sheer joy of discovery. This is often the time where I take on a new certification or dig deeper into something that I had put on hold for lack of time to fully engage or concentrate on it. Others may find solace in nature, family, or community—reminders that life exists beyond the college walls.
There is also a chance to reimagine one’s role. In uncertain times, the professor’s identity may shift from that of a traditional academic to something more fluid—mentor, writer, advocate, learner. This can be unsettling, but it can also be empowering. It invites a re-examination of values and goals, a chance to align one’s work with a deeper sense of purpose.
As summer unfolds, the initial unease may give way to a quieter confidence. The professor begins to find rhythm in the unstructured days, to embrace the ambiguity rather than resist it. There is time now to think deeply, to write thoughtfully, to plan intentionally. And when the new semester eventually arrives, it will do so not as a return to routine, but as a continuation of a journey—one shaped not only by knowledge, but by introspection, resilience, and hope.
In the end, the summer break is not just a pause in teaching. It is a season of becoming—of navigating uncertainty with grace, of finding meaning in stillness, and of preparing, once again, to inspire.
Sylvie Edwards is a Fellow of the Project Management Association of Canada with over 25 years of industry experience. She is a post secondary #educator and past President of the Project Management Institute- Durham Highlands Chapter.
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