Teachers all over America are running on fumes. Aside from being tired all the time, I’m not clawing my way to the finish as usual. I’m actually quite sad. I can remember one other year I felt this level of sadness. That was the year my most difficult students graduated. They were the ones I had four years straight, the ones that made me get a masters degree to get out of teaching, and for them my tears started flowing in February of that last year. I never did get out of teaching. All the anguish they caused me was met with an unexpected feeling of loss when they left. This year has been by far the easiest of my career. I enjoyed this year more than the rest. I saw brains blossom in the last few weeks in a way I didn’t expect, and I recently witnessed the kids’ realizations that they understand what most people don’t and never will know. Today I watched them engage in random conversations as close friends, and I knew these friendships would last. I knew they made them in AP Physics. And my heart broke. In less than two weeks, they will be gone. One of the things they don’t tell people who are just starting their teaching careers is that at the end of every year you have to let go. You have to send your children off into the world. Over and over. Most years I am a little sad, but I welcome the summer breaks. This year is different. Letting go is extra hard.
Maybe it would’ve been easier if we hadn’t made the music videos. I’m compiling them for us to watch the last day. And I am adding a video of me playing a ukelele (badly) and singing them a song I wrote. It’s a funny video, and they aren’t expecting it. My original hope was to entertain them. My hope now is to hold it together.
So tomorrow I will mingle with them. Laugh. Gather memories to hold onto while I still can. Pretend my heart isn’t breaking.
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