Where has this school year gone? We were just getting acquainted and now it is time to part. The children have grown so much that we can hardly recognize their sophisticated ways. Compare school photos taken in September with the grown-up versions hanging around the hallways in June. Who were those youngsters?
In the course of a single school year, teachers and students develop a rapport that can last a lifetime. What exactly that relationship is, however, varies from teacher to student. We can all recall those teachers we want to forget, those teachers we want to remember forever, those teachers we hope have forgiven us, and those teachers we wish could still recognize our faces.
Teaching is partly about remembering our own past. We were all students once. We all could not wait for the school year to end. For the next grade to begin. And then for that year to be over. As students, we never even considered how our teachers might be feeling.
As teachers, we too are impatient for the year to end. But we are conflicted. The children are bouncing off the walls waiting for summer. The pace of the class that was once ingrained is now continually disrupted. Admittedly, we all could use a little space from each other. But how can we be truly happy when “our children” are leaving us forever? Will their next teacher understand their ways and needs as well as we have come to? Will he or she recognize their strengths? Their humor? Their issues? Will they be beloved? And will the children assigned to our class in the fall be as terrific?
Now we get nervous when time flies by. We want the month of May to slow down a little. We cannot believe it when our former students start high school, or heaven forbid, graduate. How can that be? Johnnie was just in my 2nd-grade class. And Janie? It seems like it was just last year that I taught her 6th-grade math.
Many children spend seven hours a day at school and come home and tell their parents that school was boring. They did nothing. They ate zilch. They played with no one. Parents have to delve for clues to discover more about their children’s lives away from home. If I want to know what is going on in my son’s class, I ask his friends’ parents. They seem to know how my son is doing, what musical instrument he wants to play. This seems so unfair.
Trust is important
But school is just the first of many steps in the parental-release program, and parents have to trust that their children are in good hands. In fact, in many ways, trust is what school is all about. Parents trust teachers with the privilege of working with their children. Students trust teachers to keep them safe–physically, mentally, and emotionally. Principals trust teachers to maintain a classroom environment that is welcoming and productive. This much trust does not develop overnight; it matures over the course of a school year and then has to be earned all over again after the summer.
I went into teaching as a career and lifestyle change. I used to be a land-use lawyer, and I worked or thought about work all the time. I brought my briefcase home every night and was glued to my laptop computer. Even worse, when I was on vacation, my deadlines did not go away.
After I had children, I dreaded phone calls from clients asking me to travel. It was difficult keeping all the balls juggling while I was away, especially once my kids started school. Packing lunches, rearranging car pools, and making play dates were all impossible to micromanage from a hotel room in a distant city. Now, I commute to and from work at the University of Chicago Laboratory Schools, and my kids happen to be in the car coming and going to the same destination.
Many people ask me if I miss my law practice. I tell them that sometimes I miss having an office with a door. I miss having a secretary. I miss being able to have a long lunch in the middle of the day. I miss being able to go to the doctor or the dentist on a moment’s notice. But I would not return to that life.
Teaching offers me different freedom and different challenges. Successful teaching is, in fact, harder than it looks. Strangers are thrown together for a year and the results are not instantly or necessarily delightful. Teaching takes special skills, in addition to having a curriculum and a lesson plan; teaching takes time, commitment, understanding, patience and drive.
Parting is sorrow
Needless to say, I now anticipate my vacations from school with glee. The expectation alone is enough to put me in a good mood. And summer vacation is naturally the icing on the cake. But as a group, teachers are not this shallow. Teachers also fantasize about sleeping. Long, luxurious, restful sleep. The kind of sleep that is not disturbed by an alarm clock. The kind of sleep that arrives after a day devoid of children’s demands. The kind of sleep that can only be daydreamed about on the playground or in after-school meetings.
And so, June is here and parting is such sweet sorrow. After all, the last day of school is the moment we have all been waiting for since early September. So why are teachers sad when it finally arrives?
In many jobs, people say goodbye to one person at a time. For example, at my former law firm, if a secretary left, a party was organized and everyone took a cake break. If it was a lawyer who was departing, then maybe lunch was thrown in too. As a teacher, I still have not gotten accustomed to the large-scale exodus. Year after year after year, the entire class departs for good. Some children graduate to the next grade. Others leave the school because their family is relocating over the summer. No one will be returning to our class for a second year.
It is difficult to say goodbye on such a scale. It is numbing in fact. Sometimes I am in denial that I will not be seeing the children (and yes, some of their parents) again on a regular basis. When school is ending, I say words that I mean, but if I thought about it at the time, could not be true.
Me: “I hope you have a terrific, long, warm, and restful summer.
Parents: “Thanks. You too.”
Me: “I just hate saying goodbye. We’ll stay in touch.”
Parents: “Absolutely! This isn’t really goodbye. We’ll come back and visit. And we’ll see you in the hallway too.”
Child: “Will you guys hurry up? It’s time to leave.”
Yes, in the beginning of the next school year, many of the children and their parents do stop by our class to visit. But it is awkward. The children do not feel comfortable in the room because the furniture is rearranged. And moreover, their old friends are not around to make the classroom feel familiar. We are always happy to see our alums and given them a quick hug. But why do they grow up so fast once they leave our clutches? Maybe it just reminds us that we are growing older too.
Class is dismissed
On the last day of school, we whack and smack our pinata and everyone cheers. Class is dismissed at noon, sharp. Parents and children are on their own for every snack, lunch, library visit, sports activity, art project, and musical event until early September.
Farewells never were our strong suit. We will be back in the fall to start all over again–relaxed, rejuvenated, and ready for new introductions.
