Today, I stood with all the other teachers and support staff as we blew bubbles and waved goodbye to our students.
Although parts of the year seemed to drag by at a snail’s pace, most of the weeks raced by.
As expected, I had students that were excited about the last straw being placed into the calendar pocket. They smiled and spoke about their summer plans.
Some students grew quiet during the last minutes of first grade. Uncertain about what’s to come and uneasy with those changes; these feelings are understandable, especially for those students that spent two school years with me.
None of the first graders can understand all the changes that I have witnessed. I have watched them grow academically, socially and physically.
Comparing their recent papers with their September work, especially their writing, makes this progress even more apparent.
Before we left today, we sat in a large circle, sharing specific compliments for all of the classmates.
Watching this, listening, was more proof of their growth. There was eye contact, thoughtful words shared, and plenty of “thank you” responses.
This was the part of the day where I felt the most emotion, pride and disbelief that the year was ending. At this moment, I felt like a mother bird, surveying the nest for one more look before the babies left on their maiden flight.
As a teacher mama, I was fully aware that my son didn’t experience a “last day” celebration. There was nothing that marked the end of third grade.
Honestly, I don’t think he cares about this. Maybe I care more because this passing the torch seems important or maybe it’s because I love to honor traditions.
Right now, it hasn’t sunk in. Today was the last day of school and now, I focus on my son’s learning.