End of the School Year

This time, it was different. This time, I felt something deep in my heart. This time, they moved me to tears.

It all came flooding over me at about 2:55pm, 5 minutes before the bell was going to ring, signalling the end of another school year. 6 years, I have been doing this, and the previous 5 had never brought me to tears. Year 6 changed that. Year 6 was the year I finally felt like I knew what I was doing in the classroom. This was the year that I finally felt like a teacher.

Thinking back on what the classroom was like at the beginning of the year: kids that knew their letters, but not how to blend them into words. Kids that could write their name, but not their thoughts. Kids that had basic math skills ready to build their foundation of knowledge. I was scared. The year before, I was so absent. Absent in body and mind. I failed before. This time, we succeeded. And "we" is the word so needed in this business of teaching.

I came to realize, on the last day of school, that this was the first year that I taught and I wasn't married. I didn't have a partner at home. I was on my own this year. With that said, over these last 10 months, I have built the most special, rewarding, exciting, and loving relationships that I have ever had in my life. I feel honored and blessed to call so many of my colleagues friends. We can laugh at ourselves and each other without fear. We can critique one another and grow together without guilt or shame. These friendships have changed me and helped me grow professionally as well as personally.

I can confidently say, that I taught these children how to read. I gave them a gift that no one can take away. I gave them freedom. I gave them hope. Don't misunderstand me, it has taken a village of teachers, counselors, principals, and parents to do this. I do not get all the credit. But I do get to stand proud as one of the contributors of this success.

So, at 2:55pm, I looked over the sea of little faces. I told them I loved them. Many of my kids come from rough homes and backgrounds. I worry that many of them are not told they are loved nearly as often as they should. I wanted them to know that someone loves them, I love them. We don't often talk this way as teachers, but maybe we should. Maybe the world needs us to state our truth of love. I love these children. I want the very best for them. Most importantly, these kids need to hear and know that someone in this world loves them.

With that sentiment being poured out, I saw one of my little ones crying, and then I lost it. Tears flowing down my face, my heart breaking, knowing that after the bell rings, things would never be the same. Sure, they will say "Hi, Ms Amy!" to me in the hallway, or smile and wave, but it will never ever be the same. They will have a new "Best Teacher Ever", and I will receive a new classroom to love. I savored their spirits, we hugged and cried together. And with that, I let them go.

This year, I became a teacher.