a sappy but true account of the last day of school

It's over. My very first school year is over! It's hard to believe up until the very end.

The last few weeks of school are crazy.  When testing is done, it's dance practice, field day, end of year projects and rewards games. Then you move your classroom (to a new classroom around the corner), and the chaos that ensues from 30 kids carrying boxes, climbing on counters to disassemble bulletin boards and running around with cleaning chemicals is a special kind of chaos I've never known before. A very chaotic kind of chaos, to say the least.

Then, all of a sudden, it's the last day of school. All of a sudden, you're doing your last town council, your last one-word check in, your last 90-second dancing break.


Then you're crying and realizing that these kids are your kids, your children you've been with daily for the last 9 months, your talented, crazy, amazing, frustrating, hilarious kids. They're the kids you've helped learn to read types of text structures, to write persuasive essays, to multiply fractions. You've been to their gymnastics and basketball competitions, you've consoled them when their mom got breast cancer, you've welcomed them when they moved from Georgia halfway through the year, you've spent time at recess and in the hallway and in the snow camping with them.


And then all of a sudden the bell rings, they accidentally call you mom for the last time, and you're giving them hugs and their last class handshake and they're out the door into that sweet summer freedom.

And that's it.


After my kids left today (yes, they're my kids), I had a second to myself. A second to just sit on the floor in the middle of my empty, clean classroom and cry a few more little tears. The end of the year has a special smell, a special feeling to it, and I wanted to take that in. I've been so blessed this year, so incredibly blessed with a team I love, with an amazing principal, and with 30 awesome kids.

And now - summer?