We all stood at our bus loop yesterday, watching our students board the yellow buses for the last time this school year. They hung their heads out of the open windows, shouting out to teachers. Some hung back in their seats, dabbing their eyes with tissue. Someone put small bubble bottles in our mailboxes, so a few of us were blowing bubbles into the air. The buses then took off with a loud cacophony of honking and shouting and cheering, then doubled back through the loop for a second time (as is our custom on the last day of school), as all of us teachers waved and shouted out some final encouraging words as summer came into full view.
And then they were gone, and we shuffled back into our school — which now seemed a bit too quiet. Sure, we were happy to see the year end but already, I could feel some pangs of what tomorrow would bring when I would wake up and not be planning for a day of activities with my sixth graders, whom are now off to the larger regional school for middle school.
I’m going to miss those kids.
Before my homeroom class left — before we hugged or high-five or gave handshakes — they presented me with a HUGE oversized greeting card that two girls have been making in the far corner of the classroom for about three weeks now. I had purposely avoided the girls hard at work — I had some idea — but the card and the envelope were so wonderful, so touching, that after the school had emptied out, I stood there, staring at them on the chalkboard in the back of the room.
Peace (in the remembering),