The Liminal Space Between Summer and School

Wednesday, August 12, 2026
written by Kelly McGinn

There is a strange space that exists between the end of summer and the beginning of school—a stretch of time that feels suspended between what was and what is about to be. The bags may not yet be packed, the classrooms may still be quiet, and the alarm clocks may not yet be set, but mentally, the transition has already begun.

For students, this space can hold a complicated mix of emotions. Summer offers freedom: later mornings, unstructured days, family time, travel, and the luxury of not always knowing what comes next. Then, slowly, school begins to enter the conversation. Supplies need to be purchased. Schedules appear. Bedtimes shift. The anticipation of new teachers, new classmates, new expectations, and sometimes a new school begins to take shape. Even when a student is excited, change can carry uncertainty. The waiting itself can feel unsettling.

Parents experience their own version of this liminal space. There is planning, organizing, coordinating, shopping, scheduling, and trying to reestablish routines that may have loosened over the summer. But beneath the logistics is an emotional preparation: remembering that their child may be anxious, excited, resistant, or all three at once. Parents are transitioning too—from the rhythm of summer back into the rhythm of school, work, activities, homework, lunches, and early mornings.

And then there are teachers, who are preparing in ways students may never see. Classrooms are being arranged. Lessons are being planned. Rosters are being reviewed. Materials are gathered, expectations considered, and countless small decisions made in anticipation of the people who will soon walk through the door. Teachers are transitioning from summer's slower pace back into the mental and emotional attentiveness that teaching requires.

Perhaps that is what makes this period so significant: everyone is preparing, but no one has arrived yet.

Transitions are hard at every age. We often assume that children are the ones who need help adjusting, but adults also need time to shift mentally and emotionally from one season, role, or routine to another. The waiting gives us space to anticipate what is coming, to imagine possibilities, to acknowledge what we are leaving behind, and to prepare ourselves for what we cannot yet fully know.

The liminal space can feel uncomfortable because it asks us to live between two worlds. But perhaps we don't need to rush through it. Maybe the waiting, the planning, and the mental preparation are not wasted time. Maybe they are the transition itself—a necessary pause that helps students, parents, and teachers take a breath before stepping together into something new.

My prayers are with all of the students, parents, and teachers as we enter this new school year. May everyone find the blessings sprinkled over them like glitter!