School’s out for the summer…

I used to teach middle school and before that grade school.  I always marveled on the last day at how fast each year went, especially when I taught first grade.

These little munchkins came to me, sometimes hysterically crying, already missing their mom. Some were tied to their mother’s  hip and refused to let her go. On these instances, I’d literally have to pry the child off of mom, whisk the child into the classroom, and sensitively ask the mom to leave, explaining it would help me get her child settled. The mother wasn’t sure that was the right thing to do and usually would ask me  if she could give her child just one more hug. I hated playing the “bad guy”, but had to do my job which was to suggest otherwise, saying it would only prolong the separation anxiety they both were having. Now Mom would be in tears! The first day of first grade was always a little stressful for me.

The last day of first grade was completely different. I got to see these six and seven year old children go from reading cat, bat, sat,  in September to chapter books by spring. I had to teach them how to hold a pencil in the fall, but by June, I was having them turn in descriptive paragraphs, sometimes two pages filled with their writing. It was magical in  a way and I always felt proud of their accomplishments.

Even though I was ready for summer, the knowledge that our relationship would never be the same again made me feel somewhat sad.  Sure, the following school year they would still see me as I pass them in the hallway or in the bus lines. We’d get to smile and wave, but  the special connection we had after being in a classroom together for 10 months,the tie that brought us so closely together, would be broken once that last bell sounded.

On the last day of  school you could feel the excitement. The building had an energy that buzzed with a happy, anticipation. But after the summer birthday celebration, the games, cleaning out the desks, and laughter, the classroom would get a little quiet sensing our time together was almost up.

Don’t get me wrong. The First Graders were thrilled they didn’t have school the next day, but often times, it was bitter sweet. Like me, they realized they were no longer really “mine”. My time with them was borrowed and now we all waited for that  final bell.

And then it would ring and the halls would have hoots and hollers. The teachers would be smiling, and have an extra special  hop in their step,  but many times one or two students from my class would be sad and hug me saying they didn’t want to go to second grade.

I remember one year a little boy was crying so hard in his car, that his mother brought him back into school to find  me,  so he could say one last goodbye.

I remember giving him a hug, and as he surprised me by throwing his arms with force around my hips, still fighting tears he told me;

“You were the best teacher I ever had.”

Now I admit, he had only two teachers before me, but this memory still touches my heart.

That’s what I miss about teaching. The bonds that you make with the kids and the investment you put into each day. It was always more than a job to me.

I found this the other day online.

I wish I could take credit for writing it, but I took it  from a site called Quoteland.com and they took it from

http://www.theallengroup.com/members/newsletter0101.html

(~ an excerpt from a story The Teacher by Anon )

I wanted to share it with you  because it focuses on life, what’s important, and how awesome it is when you find a teacher that made a real difference. Despite how old you get, you’ll always remember the one teacher who was your favorite.

June and Summer

Remember to thank the teachers who worked hard all year and hope you enjoy this short piece:

The teacher’s eyes beginning to water, she went on,

“So I would like you all to make me a promise. From now on, on your way to school, or on your way home, find something beautiful to notice. It doesn’t have to be something you see it could be a scent – perhaps of freshly baked bread wafting out of someone’s house, or it could be the sound of the breeze slightly rustling the leaves in the trees, or the way the morning light catches the autumn leaf as it falls gently to the ground. Please look for these things, and cherish them. For, although it may sound trite to some, these things are the stuff of life. The little things we are put here on earth to enjoy. The things we often take for granted. We must make it important to notice them, for at any time…it can all be taken away.”

The class was completely quiet. We all picked up our books and filed out of the room silently. That afternoon, I noticed more things on my way home from school than I had that whole semester.

Every once in a while, I think of that teacher and remember what an impression she made on all of us, and I try to appreciate all of those things that sometimes we all overlook.

Take notice of something special you see on your lunch hour today. Go barefoot. Or walk on the beach at sunset. Stop off on the way home tonight to get a double-dip ice cream cone.
For as we get older, it is not the things we did that we often regret, but the things we didn’t do.

Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.

This post was taken from:

http://www.theallengroup.com/members/newsletter0101.html

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