As an undergraduate freshman at Hollins University, I was introduced to a strange holiday (unique to the Hollins campus). Every fall, just after the first frost, the chapel bells would begin to toll early in the morning…very, VERY early in the morning. Tinker Day was upon us. When you heard the bells, you were to spring from your bed and head to the cafeteria (remaining in your most comfortable jammies), where you would be treated to a breakfast of Krispie Kreme donuts. After breakfast, all of us would run to our dorms where we would put on our wackiest outfits (purchased weeks before at a thrift store in anticipation) and then meet on the front quad. The president (similarly garbed) would give a speech, announcing that classes were canceled and the entire student body would proceed to Tinker Mountain…which we then climbed. At the top of the mountain, each class (freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior) would perform a skit and we ate fried chicken.
It seems nonsensical…and it is. But as an educator and advisor, I can see the pedagogical value in Tinker Day. We were given a day off. Without warning, without any reason–in essence, we were given a student "mental health day." How often do you want to take mental health days as a professional? We were given a collective break from our worries. We were allowed to laugh and bond with the entire university (that includes faculty and staff). I can't tell you the number of times I watched one student help another on the way up that mountain. That kind of experience stays with you–you remember when someone goes out of their way to help you to reach a goal (in the same way that teachers and advisors help students reach the "goal" of their degree). And when we reached the top of the mountain, we reached it with our classmates. We shared in the journey and we shared in the rewards.
So I think about Tinker Day when I'm teaching my classes each semester. When my students look particularly stressed, when their Facebook status messages are depressed, when they're loaded down with work for their other classes…I look at my own syllabus. I ask myself if a given lesson plan can wait for a week (I usually build a bit of flexibility into my syllabi)…and then I cancel class. Sometimes even an extra hour of time can make a difference to a student who is a little behind. As teachers, we have the power to give our students the gift of a day off–my students really appreciate it.
