no more teachers’ dirty looks

I said goodbye to my class a week ago. I cannot overemphasize how weird it is that these little people that I spent six hours a day with for nine months are not mine anymore. We’ll all come back to school in the fall but there will be a new person that they will call “my teacher,” and there will be new kids that will be “my class.” They will not be mine, I will not be theirs. I taught them how to read! I learned the names of their siblings and pets! I gave them extra love when their grandmothers died, and their apartments caught fire, and their friends were mean on the playground. And they gave me extra love when my kitty died, and when I was sick, and when it was my birthday. They were my first class.
The last day of school was surreal. It was a half-day, and it’s not like they were going to learn anything anyway, so I took them out for a long recess and we played games together as a class. I let the girls push me on the swings. Let me tell you, those girls are strong! They pushed me high! Then we went back into our room and I put them to work scrubbing and organizing and throwing things away. It was very business-like and the time just flew. Pretty soon it was time for our closing circle. I kept it brief, gave them a chance to reflect on what was special about 1st grade, and what they were excited about for second grade (harder math). I told them that I was proud of them and thanked them for being such a great first class. I told them I was nervous about next year, because what if the new kids weren’t as nice or hard working? And they assured me that the kindergartners they knew were all very nice and very hard working. Then the gathered all their stuff in their arms and their backpacks and lined up for the last time at the door to our classroom. I helped a few kids get their belongings together, and when I looked at the line I saw that about half of my kids were standing there, all laden with junk, crying silently. Not showy crying. Not hugging their friends and being dramatic. Just quietly standing and crying. It was heartbreaking. I didn’t know how the day would go- if I would be sad, or if they would, or if we would all just be antsy to get out of there. In then end I was quietly crying too as I walked my kids to the busses and then stood on the grass with the other teachers and waved goodbye.
It was hard.