Recess, Reclaimed

Recess isn’t something we outgrow. It’s something we forget—and then have to choose again.

I had the coolest conversation with a colleague this month. He’s a student advisor, and he tells his students something simple and unexpected:

Make time for recess.

The moment he said it, I smiled. It took me right back to elementary school. Waiting. Wiggling in our seats. Trying to contain the energy building in our bodies as we walked single file down the hallway. Quiet. Ordered. Controlled. 

Until the doors opened. And then… freedom. We ran. We explored. We laughed. We played. For a brief window of time, nothing else mattered.

Somewhere along the way, we stopped doing that. Or maybe more accurately, we forgot how. What’s funny is, I actually went to school for this. My undergraduate degree is in Recreation. At the time, people would ask, half-joking, “What… you’re going to teach people how to play?”

And the answer was always, “Well… yes.”

Thirty-plus years later, I’m realizing just how much we all need that reminder. Because play isn’t frivolous. It’s foundational. Play is rest. Play is reset. Play is how we reconnect with ourselves.

And yet, so many of us have been conditioned to believe we have to earn it. We have to finish everything first. That we have to be productive enough. That we have to justify the joy.

But what if we didn’t?

What if we allowed ourselves to feel safe enough to pause… without guilt?

What if we let ourselves be seen… in the things that light us up?

What if we chose fulfillment… not as a reward, but as a way of living?

What if we felt empowered… to build lives that include recess?

Last week, I was on vacation. A quiet staycation, close to home. But one day stood out. Jim planned it. He knows how much I love the water. How much I miss it. How it settles something deep in me. So he booked us a fishing charter at Elephant Butte. We left early, driving north in the dark, bundled in layers as the dashboard read 44 degrees. It felt a little wild, a little unexpected… and exactly right. 

By the time we reached the water just after 8 a.m., everything had shifted. The lake was glass. Still. Quiet. Open. I didn’t have to plan, lead, or think ahead. I just got to be.

At first, I told myself it didn’t matter if we caught anything. Being on the water was enough. My happy place. But then I caught my first fish… and something in me lit up. I got excited. Really excited. We ended up catching six or eight… I don’t even remember exactly. It didn’t matter. What mattered was how it felt. The laughter. The ease. The way my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

On the ride home, something else returned, too. We started dreaming again. And later, Jim cooked what we caught. Double bliss.

In that space, I realized something: Recess isn’t just for kids. It’s for anyone willing to remember what it feels like to be fully present in their own life. To step away from the constant doing. To choose joy… simply because it’s available.

This is what fulfillment feels like. Not big, flashy moments. But quiet, intentional ones where we allow ourselves to come back to life.

So here’s your reminder. And mine.

Make time for recess.

Not because you’ve earned it.

But because you’re human.

©2026 Lori Ann King