It's 6 PM on Sunday and I'm standing in my kitchen making dinner when it hits me like a rogue dodgeball to the stomach. That familiar knot of dread starts forming right below my ribs.

Oh no. Tomorrow is Monday.

The Sunday Scaries, mijas. They're as real as Florida humidity in August, and just about as uncomfortable.

I used to think I was the only teacher who felt this way. Surely after two decades in the classroom, I should have outgrown this weekly anxiety attack, right? Wrong. Turns out, most of us are walking around with that same Sunday evening pit in our stomachs, wondering how we're going to survive another week.

But here's what I've learned: the Sunday Scaries don't have to win.

Why We Get Them (Spoiler Alert: It's Not Just You)

Let me paint you a picture. It's Sunday night and your brain starts that familiar spiral:

Did I make enough copies for tomorrow? What if that parent emails me back about their kid's grade? Oh dios mio, I forgot to call the substitute office. Is my lesson plan even good? What if the principal walks in during my disaster of a math block?

Sound familiar?

Teaching is one of those jobs where the to-do list never actually ends. There's always one more thing we could be doing, should be doing, or forgot we were supposed to be doing. Add in the fact that we're responsible for 20-something little humans every day, and no wonder our nervous systems go haywire every Sunday evening.

My colleague Rosa calls it "the weight of Monday." All those lesson plans, behavior management strategies, parent communications, and let's not even talk about data tracking. It all comes crashing down on us the night before we have to actually do it all.

What Doesn't Work (Trust Me, I've Tried)

In my early years, I tried everything to beat the Sunday Scaries. I'd work all weekend, thinking if I just got ahead enough, the anxiety would disappear. Spoiler alert: it didn't.

I tried ignoring it completely. "I'm not thinking about school today!" I'd announce to Carlos, who would just shake his head as I spent the entire day clearly thinking about school.

I even tried that whole "Sunday self-care" thing where you're supposed to take bubble baths and drink wine. But you know what? It's hard to relax in a bathtub when you're mentally rehearsing how you're going to explain fractions to a kid who still counts on his fingers.

What Actually Helps

After years of trial and error (mostly error, if we're being honest), I've found some strategies that actually work. Not magic solutions, but real, practical ways to make Sunday evenings less like psychological torture.

The Sunday Brain Dump

Every Sunday around 4 PM, I sit down with a cup of café and a piece of paper. I write down everything swirling around in my teacher brain. Everything.

Call Marcus's mom about the math test. Make copies of the reading comprehension packets. Email the PE teacher about the field day schedule. Remember to pull Sophia for reading intervention.

I don't organize it or prioritize it. I just get it all out of my head and onto paper. It's amazing how much lighter I feel when all those spinning thoughts have somewhere to land.

The Monday Morning Prep Ritual

Here's something that changed my life: I prep Monday morning Maria like she's a completely different person who needs detailed instructions.

Sunday evening, I lay out my clothes. I pack my lunch. I put my coffee mug next to the coffee maker. I even write myself a little note: "Good morning, beautiful. You've got this. Start with the math warm-up."

It sounds silly, pero Monday morning Maria is basically a zombie, and zombie Maria needs all the help she can get.

The Three-Thing Rule

I used to make Sunday to-do lists that looked like novels. Now I follow the three-thing rule: I pick three things that absolutely must happen on Monday. That's it. Three.

Not thirty. Not thirteen. Three.

Usually it's something like: "Teach the new science lesson, call two parents, and survive lunch duty." Everything else is bonus points.

The Reality Check Conversation

This one I learned from my friend Carmen, who's been teaching even longer than me. When the Sunday Scaries hit, I have a little conversation with myself:

"Maria, what's the worst thing that could realistically happen tomorrow?"

Usually it's something like forgetting to make copies or having a rough lesson. And then I ask: "Have you survived that before?" The answer is always yes.

We've all had days where everything went wrong and we still made it through. Remembering that helps put things in perspective.

The Sunday Night Routine That Actually Works

By 7 PM on Sunday, I'm done with school stuff. Not because everything is perfect, but because it never will be, and that's okay.

I make myself a simple dinner. I watch something mindless on TV with Carlos (usually him complaining about whatever team is losing). I read a few pages of a book that has nothing to do with education.

And here's the key: I remind myself that I'm a good teacher. Not perfect, not superhuman, but good. My students learn in my classroom. Their parents trust me. My principal keeps me around. That has to count for something, right?

When the Scaries Still Win

Some Sundays, despite all my strategies, the anxiety wins. The knot in my stomach refuses to untie, and I spend the evening worrying about everything from lesson plans to whether I remembered to water the classroom plants.

On those nights, I give myself permission to feel scared. Teaching is hard. Really hard. It's okay to be nervous about doing hard things.

I also remind myself that Monday will happen whether I worry about it or not. My worrying doesn't actually prevent problems, it just makes me tired before the week even starts.

You're Not Alone in This

If you're reading this on a Sunday evening with that familiar knot in your stomach, take a deep breath. You're not broken. You're not weak. You're not the only one who feels this way.

The Sunday Scaries are just proof that you care about your job and your students. That caring is what makes you a good teacher, even when it makes Sunday evenings uncomfortable.

Tomorrow is Monday, and you're going to handle whatever it throws at you. You always do. And next Sunday, when the scaries come knocking again, you'll have a few more tools in your toolkit to help you through.

Now go make that three-thing list and remember: you've got this, even when it doesn't feel like it.

What helps you deal with the Sunday Scaries? I'd love to hear your strategies. We're all in this together, and sometimes the best advice comes from a fellow teacher who's been exactly where you are.