Have you ever been driving on a long stretch of highway, and you suddenly snap to and realize you don’t remember the last ten miles? Your hands were on the wheel. Your eyes were on the road. You got where you were going. But you weren’t really there for any of it.

Here’s the thing. Teaching can feel exactly like that. Have you ever reached the end of a school day and thought, “Wait, what did we even do today?” You covered the material. You answered the questions. You made it through. But you couldn’t tell me a single moment that actually stuck. That’s the difference between coasting and driving. And it brings me to the final action in our book, the one we saved for last: Enjoy the Ride.

Because after all the strategy and all the intention, there’s one question that matters just as much as any of them: are you actually enjoying this?

Enjoy the Ride is about noticing the joy in your everyday classroom moments. Being present, connecting with your students, and finding the fun in the small, sometimes fleeting moments of the day.

Now, we’re not saying the ride is always smooth. Some days you hit a pothole. Some days you take a wrong turn and end up somewhere you didn’t plan. There are even days you don’t really want to get in the car at all. But then there are those moments when you pause and realize how far you’ve come. A student who finally breaks through. A quiet hand raised for the first time. A flash of growth that reminds you exactly why you chose this work. Those moments are what give the ride its meaning.

And here’s the part I really want you to hear: fun is not a distraction from the serious work. Fun is part of the work. When students feel joy, they take more risks, they’re more motivated, and they actually remember what they learn. The research backs this up. Joy isn’t the reward at the end of learning. It’s one of the things that makes learning happen.

But here’s what I learned writing this chapter, and I’ll be honest with you. When I sat down to write about joy and fun, I was completely stressed out. I had three deadlines stacked on top of each other, and there I was, trying to write a chapter on joy I was feeling none of it.

Right before I started, I was at dinner with my family, and we were brainstorming ideas for our annual holiday card. The ideas got wild, the way good brainstorming does. And my husband says, “What if we all dress up like Riggy?” Riggy is our dog. And honestly, my first reaction was annoyance. I was stressed, I didn’t have time for silly ideas. But then I caught myself, because I was literally writing about this exact thing.

So I leaned in. “What if we make Riggy Santa Claus, and we’re all his elves?” And the whole table just exploded with laughter. And as I sat there watching my family crack up, the stress melted away, and I remembered: these moments are the whole point.

Fun expert Mike Rucker told us something that stuck with me. He said fun is the elixir to burnout. And it’s true. When we’re depleted, we don’t lose our empathy because we stopped caring. We lose it because we’re exhausted. A little bit of joy in your own day restores that. This action isn’t only about your students. It’s about you, too.

So here’s what I want to leave you with, and it’s beautifully simple. You don’t need to overhaul your whole personality or turn every lesson into a new holiday. Just look at something you’re already doing and ask one question: Where can I invite a little more joy into this?

Maybe it’s how you design one lesson. Maybe it’s who you choose to spend your prep time with. Maybe it’s just noticing when something delightful happens in your room and giving yourself permission to actually enjoy it, instead of rushing past it to the next thing on the list. Start there. Start small.

In The Future Creative, we go deeper into how to make joy sustainable, and here’s one strategy that surprised a lot of educators. More fun isn’t always better. We tell the story of a teacher whose classroom was a daily production: volcanoes, scavenger hunts, the whole room transformed every single day. She was endlessly creative, and by spring, both she and her students were completely exhausted. The real art is what we call shifting gears with intention, knowing when to go big and when to keep it simple, because a surprise only works when it isn’t constant. In the book, we share how to find that balance and build a classroom full of joy that lasts all year. 

After all the strategy and intention, there’s one question that matters just as much as the rest: are you actually enjoying this? Fun isn’t the reward waiting at the end of the learning, it’s one of the very things that makes the learning happen, for your students and for you. So lean in, laugh often, and enjoy the ride.