My classroom walls are mostly bare.
My stool and fans are on top of a counter, waiting now for the floors to be waxed.
Graded papers are in the recycling bin; final grades have been entered.
The busses rolled away, carrying the last nine months of our lives with them. Some we waved at fondly, a little misty. Some we grinned at, ear to ear, eager for them to move on.
Per tradition, Hallelujah chorus was played over the intercom promptly at 2:30.
But what followed this year was a massive teacher dance party.
My dearest friend, Amanda, and I have a tradition of doing a kickline down the front hall to the na-na-na-na-hey-hey-hey-good bye song. This year we did it once (we must be getting old as we were rather winded). Afterward, for the first time, the staff began to congregate until we lined the front hall. As our colleagues exited the office or came down the stairs, we chanted their name like our team just won the state football championship and we were celebrating the star players.
Some of our star players are moving on this year, not by choice but by financial necessity as determined by our district. They've all come to terms with it, but that doesn't mean our hearts have. Each one will be dearly missed, as they added something truly special to our team.
And so we cheered. We clapped. We danced like the teachers we are--kind of awkward, but full of heart. We laughed. Our cheeks hurt. And then our eyes filled. Tears rolled.
Now it's over.
The adventure that was 2010-2011 is finished.
A new one is on the horizon.
But thank the good powers that be they gave us a break in between.
Happy Summer, friends.
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