Countdown: R Minus Three

Also known as The Last Day with the Children, yesterday happened as if I weren't retiring. Yesterday was a typical last day of school. Without exception, regardless of my age, level of aerobic exercise or physical fitness, the last day of school has always left me more drained than I can describe. By the time the children leave on this day, I am beat. All I can think about is getting off my feet and resting my weary bones, bones that feel like they have turned to rubber, converted and are ready to flop me over at any second. Or maybe I'll just melt like Elphaba. Pour water on me; see what happens. The last day of school is like my usual Friday but on steroids, ramped up exponentially because not only is it a Friday, it is the last Friday of a school year, the wrapping up of 180 instructional days, the culmination of the exhaustive work of building a classroom community, a micro-lifetime come and gone, a beginning middle and end all completed within these 180 days. In 36 weeks, I have created an environment, established relationships, presented, worked for and reached (or fallen short of) goals and standards,instructed, mothered, nursed, refereed, mediated,and guided a group of children who had not had much previous socialization to the school environment. I have either welcomed or alienated their parents to our school and have ushered them all on to our first grades. I have planned lessons and homework, prepared the necessary materials to deliver said activities, have done the paperwork, the data input, the conferencing, the rubric-making, the team meetings, made and remade the groupings, set and reset the seating charts, assessed and reassessed the children, given them extra work, pushed them in their zones of proximal development, cleaned, picked up, and organized and dismantled a 1200-square-foot work space. At the end of this day, I am always, I mean ALWAYS, glad school is out. Did I have different feeling this time? No. My sense of exhaustion superceded any other feeling I might possibly have had. All I wanted to do was go home and rest. That said, there were still some traditions I felt must be carried out. No, traditions I believe in strongly, do every year, and WANTED to carry out. First of all, I always invite the families to the end-of-the-year celebrations. The children always vote on some songs they'd like to sing for our guests. We reset the furniture in the classroom during recess. After recess the families start arriving. After we sing, I give certificates individually to the children. I call them up one-at-a-time and say something special about each child. It's very sweet and it's one of my favorite activities of the entire year. After all the children have been recognized, everyone goes outside to have lunch at the tables. We all bring something. It's one of the few times during the year when I allow sweets and desserts. As the children finish their food, they head to the playground for the remainder of the lunch period. I pass out the progress reports to the parents. And before you know it, it's time to go home. This day, just like the last twenty or so last days of school, went that way. It all happened in a flash. And then it was over. I got lovely gifts, lots of well wishes. It was a good day. I left as I always do: tired beyond belief, happy, worn out, glad it was over.