It would probably be fitting on this last day of the school year to zoom out to a longer view, to reflect on these ten months as a whole. Maybe I’ll do something like that this weekend. But for now, I think it’s best to end the way I began back in August: With a few close-up snapshots from the day.
During recess, only one of my sixth-grade “regulars” shows up. They sit hunched over in a wheeled chair, rolling around the room in huge, slow circles. Backward. While we’re having a conversation.
“Are you ready for summer?” I ask.
“Kinda. And kinda not. I’m ready to not have school. But I’m gonna miss my friends.” I’m guessing thoughts like this are echoing in the minds of middle schoolers everywhere this time of year. We talk about their complicated relationship with their parents, their plans for the summer. I invite them to choose a book from my shelves to take home. They decide on a comic, Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur.
I say it’s time for lunch and they pick up their stuff to go. “If you ever run for mayor,” they say, “I’ll vote for you.”
“Why?”
They pause. “‘Cause I know you want the best for people. And I know you want equality for all.”
My final class of the day is first graders, and I don’t have anything special planned. That is, until my lunch period, when I’m chatting with two colleagues who are unpacking trophies that arrived too late for the awards ceremony. One says, “Why don’t you take a bunch of these sheets of bubble wrap and just let your first graders jump on them?”
My first thought is, Wouldn’t that be wasting the bubble wrap? But then I think: It’s only a few sheets, and it is the last day of school. Why not?
So, in addition to our minute of calming and yoga poses and centers—which we’ve done every class since the first weeks of school—we add a new activity to end the year: Bubble Wrap Jumping. And man, do they go wild.
After school, I pull out of the parking lot and decide to take a detour through the streets of the neighborhood—windows down, a glorious spring breeze in the air. As I pass Davis Square Park, I see one of my second graders sitting on the front stairs of a two-flat. She looks up and screams, “Mr. Michieeeee!”
I wave and turn a corner. Up ahead on the sidewalk, I spot a gathering of at least six kids I teach, ranging in age from five to twelve. They, too, holler my name, and I respond with a loud, “Hey, everybody!” I keep them in sight in my side mirror as long as I can, watching the younger ones wave and jog along the sidewalk, getting smaller and smaller until they finally fade from view.
O MY WORD :0 I found you :) … when I read about the part about me me I started crying (in a good way :] ) you have done so much for me and I am still trying to work thing out with my parents :| … I hope I will still be allowed to be in you old room to sent you a picture of how it looks!! hope we can stay in touch :P. :O)
I have so enjoyed your posts this year and wish you the best as you begin the next step in your journey.