The Perfect Ending

My First Grade class

Well I made it.  I made it through an extremely tough year of teaching my First grade students.  I didn't think I would make it, but I did.  Despite the insane amount of work, stress, tears, lack of sleep, lack of space, working from a room that shouldn't be a classroom--I made it.  I will be honest, there were days when I just wanted to hit my head against the wall, to call it quits, to give up on some kids, but I didn't.  

The whirlwind of events leading up to the end of the school year kept me from spending too much time thinking about it.  But as I woke up this morning, I realized this is it.  This is the last day that I will be with this class.  The last day that I will have the opportunity to teach them, to comfort them, to laugh with them.  Much to my surprise, I didn't get too emotional about the situation.  But then I showed up to work and within 10 minutes of my arrival one of my students walked in with a bouquet of flowers and a homemade card.  The card was more like a miniature book describing his thoughts about First Grade.  That is when I began to get emotional.  I know that my emotions are probably a little ridiculous because I will have several of the same students in my class next year, but it will be a different class.  This years class had such an interesting dynamic and mixture of personalities that created a strong community of students, and I am going to miss all of that quirkiness.  

As time quickly passed, I ran around crazy trying to fit in a myriad of activities while enjoying my last day with them.  Before I knew it, the dismissal bell was ringing and I wasn't yet ready to let them go. Unfortunately, Micah likes to continually remind me that I can't keep them--that would be kidnapping.  So we gave our goodbye hugs and they went on their way to begin the celebration and freedom of summer and I broke down crying.  

I can only imagine that this is what parents feel.  This aching feeling acquired from pouring so much of yourself into a "little person" and then getting to the point where you have to let them go.  You have to trust that you have done all that you can and that they will go on to become a valuable member of society, and that maybe somewhere along the way, they will remember you and the lessons you tried to teach them.  

So here I am wallowing in self pity and as I walked out the door to meet Micah I see on the sidewalk a message that has been left by one of my students.  I couldn't help but tear up a little and then of course smile at the candidness of the situation. Thank goodness for First graders!

The message left by one of my students.  It reads, "Mrs. Harrbolt Roks"