The Hardest Part Is Letting Go

WARNING: This rather serious blog entry playfully features Buster and Mildred, who are apparently two of the voices inside of my head. 

Ah, the last day of school. As teachers, we all dream of this day that only comes once a year; it's the commencement of two months of freedom: the time to rediscover our hobbies and passions that we had neither the time nor the energy to pursue during the school year; the time to actually wake up after the sun has risen; the time to receive a paycheck every two weeks for essentially doing nothing except lounging around; the time to not have to worry about grading or discipline or creating a lesson plan. Honestly, is there anybody who wouldn't look forward to a couple months of living this way?

This is where I become a spoil sport and raise my hand without reservation. While the last day of school would probably be a very happy day for many teachers, I wasn't particularly looking forward to the closing of the 2013/2014 school year. After all, I knew the school at which I was employed would be permanently closing down, therefore meaning that the nanosecond school ended, I would be catapulted into a summer of frantically applying to as many jobs as possible and balancing a schedule filled with interviews around the state. Worst of all, this would be going on as I was trying to emotionally move myself through the loss of my students.

Not Just a Job, But an Emotional Investment

Hold the phone, Buster! (Who's Buster? I have no idea. For the time being, let's just call him one of the voices in my head.) Did I really just use the phrase, "emotionally move myself through the loss" in regards to my students? Isn't that a little too dramatic? Nobody died, and we are definitely not talking about a romantic break up here!

While that is true, it doesn't make letting go any less difficult. Letting go of my students and my former job, similar to experiencing a death or a break up, was a long process for me - and even at this moment, a couple of months removed from the school year, I am most definitely not all the way through the process. The part that baffles me the most is the fact that I had only been working at that school for six months, but even in that time, I became very attached to the students I taught (even those who drove me crazy on a daily basis!) as well as my co-workers and the overall environment of the school. 

The beginning of my summer vacation was particularly tough. I found myself missing the little things. I missed the way that three to five of them would try to talk to me at once and try to cut each other off mid-sentence because they were too impatient to wait their turn. It annoyed me so much at the time. I missed the way they found creative ways to turn office supplies into toys. Again, it's something that used to annoy me at the time. I missed their slang and pop culture references that I did not understand (a special thank you to the Internet for helping me on many occasions!) I missed the way that some of my sixth graders would sneak into my classroom when I had the back door open just to say hello during their gym time, even though they had just left my class to go to gym. (This was something that I definitely enjoyed at the time, too!) I missed my "usual" lunch group and the entertaining conversations I'd have with them on a daily basis. To put it simply: I missed everything!

My mind also kept going back to what could have been. The principal at my school told me during my end-of-the-year performance review that if the school had stayed open, he would have offered me my job back for the next school year. On the last day of school, I thought to myself that under normal circumstances, "goodbye" would mean, "See you in August!" and not, "Good luck in life! It was nice knowing you!" After school on the last day, some of my colleagues and I stood by the buses and waved to our students as the buses drove away for the last time. I'll never forget the sight of their smiling faces waving back, and I was determined to try to mentally capture as many details about that moment as I could.

Even now that it's August, I think about what it would have been like to spend the summer putting together lessons for my students for next year, with the learning needs of specific students in mind (one of the many advantages of having a small school!) I think about what it would have been like to see my students again on the first day of school, about asking them about their summer vacations and seeing just how much some of them had grown over the summer. I think about what it would have been like to be reunited with my colleagues on the middle school team and getting ready to work together for another school year. Alas, it was not meant to be.

Is This Normal? No, Seriously

When the school year ended during my student teaching placement during the 2010/2011 school year, I experienced a withdrawal, although it was not as severe as the one I am experiencing now. The reason for this, I've discovered, is because I had less of a reason to fear for the futures of my students at my student teaching placement. Because my student teaching placement was at a suburban school in an upper-middle class community, I knew that my students would go on to prosper, and it was certain that 100% of them would go to college. Most of them also had stable homes and a stable environment around them. At the charter school, this was most definitely not the case.

The charter school at which I taught during the 2013/2014 school year was in an area identified as being "high needs." Every student was on the free lunch program, and many came from broken homes. In my sixth months at the charter school, I'd heard of some particularly disturbing home situations and witnessed the horrendous effects these home situations had on the students. Some of the students in particular lacked a strong adult role model in their home lives and clearly looked to the staff at the school to provide that for them. It's difficult to be forced into leaving a community in which your work and even your presence in general is not just wanted, but needed.

During the summer, I talked to some of my former colleagues about my concern for the futures of our former students, as many of my former colleagues have similar concerns about the students. One of my colleagues, who served as my mentor teacher this year, told me that I have to keep the mindset that the best is yet to come for everybody: both for the staff and for the students. The students are all going on to different schools, and even though they may have formed strong relationships with some of the staff members at our school, they will be surrounded by a new support system in their new schools and will form strong relationships with a new set of students and staff members. 

The bottom line is this: They won't be alone. There's nothing to worry about. We touched their lives in the time we knew them, and that's all we can do. They will continue to live life, and they will be happy. So will we. He's right.

What Now, Brown Cow?

Oh, so I'm a brown cow now?! And which of the voices in my head is calling me that? Is it Buster? Maybe it's Mildred! Rude! Anyway...

In my last full week of summer vacation before starting at my new job (oh my gosh, where did the summer go?!), I have decided to pay tribute to my amazing semester working at my last job by putting together a scrapbook. I've printed off pictures, collected notes and other odds and ends from the boxes I brought home from my classroom, and bought decorative paper and adhesive glue at the local craft store. I will carefully spend time putting the book together this week. Then, when the scrapbook is completed, I will look at it once, close it, and put it on the shelf. 

Putting the scrapbook on the shelf once it is completed will symbolize my moving forward, and the scrapbook will remain a treasure that I look at from time to time, similar to how my memories at that school will always remain a treasure to me, and I will remember the students and great staff members I knew while working there and smile. If any of them want to keep in touch with me, I'd be more than happy to hear from them, but I understand that we will be moving forward in our separate ways, too.

It's time to move on.  

I can't wait to meet my new students on September 2nd! While I will miss all of my old students, I am confident they will find success and happiness wherever they are.

May the new school year bring all of you happiness and success, and may the voices in your head be less sassy than the voices in mine are!