So this past school year,.. I couldnt say goodbye.
They were left with the impression that I would be back next year. "Have a good summer I said to them, I will miss you all so so much." A couple times I was asked in front of a few students if I was coming back next year. Stuck; I had to answer, and I saw some tears. It broke my heart as I explained why. The hugs were like bandaids, and I was growing numb.
ON A PROFESSIONAL LEVEL :The Elementary principal gave my evaluation on the last day I had classes. I was bracing myself for the bad news. We talked and shared stories for an hour or so. I was still waiting for the bad stuff, the real dirt. So I told her how I felt, what I was waiting for. She responded to me something like this ' No Steph we have loved having you here, and I from what the kids have said and brought back to my class, and what I've heard from the faculty I would have never known you didn't have a degree.' I'm sure she meant Art or Elementary Education degree. But she continued on to say 'And if you ever need a good reference...'. I was blown away- all year, through all of my mental, creative and emotional ups-and-downs; I would have never imagined to be told that.
ON A PERSONAL LEVEL: There are many memories and people I hope to never forget.
Never forget sitting with the highschool kids at lunch laughing it up, nights with Mrs. Hawk talking forever about each students memories and momentos, the different personalities of each class.
Here is a favorite story.
A boy named Adam, in the second grade who had a knack for crying on cue; had this year grown so so much, and I was quite fond of the fact he now looked forward to art class without tears.
Until a wonderful afternoon in February. Dun-dun-dun.
We were making heart animals, out of pieces of construction paper. Out of the corner of my eye I see him quickly squirming into that familiar uncomfortable posture again. I walked over and said "whats wrong Adam?"-
" I cant cuT any more hearts" as his folded piece of red paper became an unfolded water drop shape in his hands.
Frustrated tears began to stream.
"Sure you can, look at all of the wonderful hearts on your puppy.... You are doing a very good job soo far"
Just then his eyes opened wide and welled up with pools of new tears.
Much louder than before, with a wine" Its-not a puppeeeeee... *sniff* its-a kittyeeeeeee."
At this point the whole class is caught wondering at the corner of distraction and focus.
His heavy tears rolling.
Without thinking,... I turned my attention to the paper and spoke in the most sincere and playful voice I could find... .
"I AM so SO sorry Mr. kitty will you forgive me?"
A brief pause; and then. . . "meow- meow" from now presently grinning boy.
It was in an instant a switch had been flipped.
"Well. . . . He's your kitty. . . .Do you think that means he forgives me?"
"I think so", just then as he opened a freshly cut piece of paper- a heart shape appeared.
A smile appeared on his wet face.
"Will you be. . . ?" and before I could finish ('alright') he raised his hand toward me and flicked his wrist. . . contently shoo-ing me away. Those wide eyes now focused on his scissors rounding the bend, finishing the next heart in his plans.
That was the last time I saw him cry, and I was very proud of that moment of victory I got to share with him.
Welcome to my life.
