beginning the end


See that red chair?  That's where I'll be sitting on Thursday as I cue the kiddos on their speaking and singing parts in our program we hold in our classroom at the end of the school year.  They'll stand and sit and hold signs and recite nursery rhymes and even shake maracas.  The parents will cry, and so will I.  Because even though I am ready for the next things that will happen this Summer, I am not necessarily ready for my little friends to leave.

So weird the way change is what makes this job so invigorating and excruciating at the same time.  I'll worry about C, and wonder if he is learning how to solve his little problems.  I'll keep in touch with some whose mothers have asked for a continued connection.  It's always an interesting thing.

These chairs will be packed with grandmas and little sisters and camera bags.  I'll try and put my mind elsewhere as I stand and say how much I love the kids.  Ugh.  That's a hard part.  Then after the singing and clapping and bowing we will eat little frosted animal cookies and undoubtedly spill some punch on the carpet and take lots of pictures.  I will be in many of them.  Some will end up in scrapbooks and others will not.  I am not always remembered, and I am used to that now.  It doesn't matter.  We do what we can in the time we have.

We are both limited and unlimited.  It is the way of things.

5 comments

L.T. Elliot | May 14, 2013 at 4:53 PM

You must be an incredible teacher.

wendy | May 14, 2013 at 5:36 PM

very lovely.....amazing in life how some thiings can be so exciting,happy...and yet so sad at the same time (kind of a happy sad though)

Garden of Egan | May 14, 2013 at 8:31 PM

That is so sweet. I love the little red chair and I bet those little sweethearts that you have taught this year will continue to look to you for years.
Forgotten? Not likely.

You are amazing.

Rachel Cotterill | May 15, 2013 at 9:32 AM

An amazing time of transition. I hope you enjoy it :)

Becca | May 17, 2013 at 8:16 AM

It is a humbling thought to know that while we may be forgotten, we also may be Never Forgotten. (No pressure, though...)