The last thing I did for play or fun depends on how you define fun—and I think that definition has changed for me over time.
Sometimes, fun is small and quiet. An unhurried evening at home. Coffee in hand. Music playing low. No grading, no planning, no pressure to turn the moment into something useful. Just sitting still long enough to let the day settle. That kind of fun doesn’t look like much, but it restores something that gets worn down pretty quickly during the school year.
But teaching has also kept me connected to another kind of fun—the loud, shared, unexpected kind.
Last Sunday, I went as a chaperone with students to a Jaguars game, and Jacksonville absolutely dismantled the Jets, 48–20. The students were great, the atmosphere was electric, and Trevor Lawrence had one of those games where everything clicks. Career day. He completely torpedoed my fantasy team—but it was worth it to watch the Jacksonville Jaguars look dominant and confident, and to experience that joy alongside kids who were soaking it all in.
What struck me afterward was how both kinds of fun matter. The quiet moments that refill the tank. And the big, communal moments that remind you you’re part of something larger than yourself. Teaching puts me in both spaces—sometimes on the same weekend—and I’m thankful for that.
Play doesn’t always mean escaping responsibility. Sometimes it means being fully present right where you are, whether that’s in silence with a cup of coffee or in a stadium full of noise, watching a team—and a group of students—have the time of their lives.
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
