Phew!

It's over. My 4th year of teaching came to a sudden halt at 3:00 last Friday.

The end of the school year, the actual ending moment, is so poignant. It is a sharp mix of relief, given that all the craziness and paperwork and documentation that accompanies the end of the year must necessarily soon come to an end, with a pervasive sense of loss as the kids you've spent so much of your time with, watching them grow as young people for 10 months, are leaving you, never again to be part of the classroom community so painstakingly and carefully built day by day.

One of my kid's moms said a very interesting thing as she came to pick up her daughter. She thanked me for all my efforts and all I had done, saying I was the best teacher, that she felt the work we had done together was comparable to the rigor of a private school education. Very interesting. I'll definitely take that as a compliment!

I hate to see them go. As I reflect back on the year, I see gaps, I see missed opportunities, I see quite clearly where we would go next if I had the chance to be with them again, for another year. But our system isn't set up that way - instead they'll be placed with teachers who know only their test scores and writing samples, teachers who know nothing of the accomplishments both big and small of my students this year, of the tremendous courage so many of them have shown through the adversity of difficult home situations. Teachers who don't know that when A. had the guts to read her D.A.R.E. essay to all 85 fifth graders and their parents at our D.A.R.E. graduation, she wasn't just speaking in the abstract; she was speaking about her own mom's battles with addictions and how it had made the last 8 months of her life so very lonely.

So a week off, and then summer school. Come August 23rd, the cycle begins anew.