And then, all at once, I was standing on the curb outside my little school, a retired teacher.
Friday was a half-day. Never have I been so intent on keeping all my PCs alive for 4 hours than I was on Friday. Thursday had been sort of… bumpy, so I was hoping for a smooth Friday. We had assembly as usual, then recess, then a movie in Mrs. P's classroom, then half an hour of chaos - kids signing shirts and memory books, passing out high fructose corn syrup and Red 40 in its various forms.
All the while, I packed. Encyclopedia sets I should've used, social studies textbooks, letter charts and flashcards. I had been packing and taking loads of books and construction paper home all week.
Lots of "can't you teach 4th grade next year?". Lots of "I'm going to miss yous". Lots of tight, waist-high hugs. Then they were gone, leaving jackets and forgotten summer program flyers and a year's worth of memories hanging in the air.
Mom came and did what she does best - the hard work of summoning order from chaos - making stacks, scrubbing surfaces. My principal initialed my checkout form, murmuring "thanks for taking the time to do this" as he looked through my detailed inventory entries. We shook hands and he added to let him know if I ever needed anything. I don't really know what sort of circumstances he had in mind when he said that, but I think he meant it.
As we stood on the sidewalk, Mom and I, she asked how I felt, if it was bittersweet. I told her no. Maybe in a few months, but not now. Not yet. I was too relieved. It was too heavy to carry around right now anyway, too sticky with what ifs and should haves. There were too many knots and tangles, dreams tied up with disappointments, successes and failures intertwined. But life is like that.
I hugged her goodbye, thanked her again for her help. I drove home, unloaded my car and spent the next hour digging in my garden.
Love,
Little Miss Sunshine
Friday was a half-day. Never have I been so intent on keeping all my PCs alive for 4 hours than I was on Friday. Thursday had been sort of… bumpy, so I was hoping for a smooth Friday. We had assembly as usual, then recess, then a movie in Mrs. P's classroom, then half an hour of chaos - kids signing shirts and memory books, passing out high fructose corn syrup and Red 40 in its various forms.
All the while, I packed. Encyclopedia sets I should've used, social studies textbooks, letter charts and flashcards. I had been packing and taking loads of books and construction paper home all week.
Lots of "can't you teach 4th grade next year?". Lots of "I'm going to miss yous". Lots of tight, waist-high hugs. Then they were gone, leaving jackets and forgotten summer program flyers and a year's worth of memories hanging in the air.
Mom came and did what she does best - the hard work of summoning order from chaos - making stacks, scrubbing surfaces. My principal initialed my checkout form, murmuring "thanks for taking the time to do this" as he looked through my detailed inventory entries. We shook hands and he added to let him know if I ever needed anything. I don't really know what sort of circumstances he had in mind when he said that, but I think he meant it.
As we stood on the sidewalk, Mom and I, she asked how I felt, if it was bittersweet. I told her no. Maybe in a few months, but not now. Not yet. I was too relieved. It was too heavy to carry around right now anyway, too sticky with what ifs and should haves. There were too many knots and tangles, dreams tied up with disappointments, successes and failures intertwined. But life is like that.
I hugged her goodbye, thanked her again for her help. I drove home, unloaded my car and spent the next hour digging in my garden.
Love,
Little Miss Sunshine
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