What It Was Like: That Last Day in the Classroom

There are a few things I’m struck by today - my last day in the classroom - and while I expected some of these reflections and reactions, some are surprising me.

I’m writing them for myself, to remember, but also for those who may find themselves considering a shift.

I notice my noticing.

I notice my denial. I had trouble getting ready for the day today. I dressed later than usual. I left later than usual. I left my coffee. 

I notice that I took time to look at the line of cars jockeying for position to get to school before the bell. I saw the sign at the faculty lot thanking the teachers and staff. Saw the buildings and plants and the baby bunny. I saw students waiting for their classrooms to open.

I saw my own students waiting for me (I heard the bell walking toward my door) and heard their “Hey Mrs. Thompson!” and “Good morning, Mrs. Thompson!” I felt their wonder and recognition at my pausing to start the class.

I can tell I’m wavering between emotions and can tell they see it, too.

There are some things I just love about this very human role. There’s so much interaction, probably more than any other job. We see hundreds if not thousands of people each day. We interact and support and question and laugh with so many people. It’s the part we missed so much during that awful year. 

There are some things I want to say to those I was lucky enough to work with and meet, (whether we’ve ever actually met or not): 

Thank you.

Thank you for your friendship and reassurance and guidance and commiserating and wishing and dreaming.

Thank you for challenging me; pushing me to rethink, stand up, speak up, and share those reflections and the successful and failed attempts at better. Even to those who don’t want to hear it.

Thank you for sharing the journey with me as I messed up along the way.

Thank you for showing me how to navigate being new to the profession, questioning my dedication to the profession, and how to be a veteran in the profession. 

Thank you for sharing your ideas and materials and articles and nearly-forgotten projects.

Thank you so much for the time you spent with me. In the classroom on later afternoons (and evenings), in the hallways, waiting in the office, and in the lot before heading home. 

Thank you for reminding me that they’re kids and that parents are fiercely for their kids and that’s as it should be. And that those facts don’t mean we should be treated poorly because we’re fiercely for those kids, too.

Thank you for showing me what I want to do and for giving me the chance to practice (and for giving me the feedback to make me better at it). 

My last students have left. 

I cried. 

And I look around at this empty room with furniture in the wrong places and things in piles, stacked as the school prepares for summer moves, and the writing still on the boards. And one board has a giant student-written block letter title: REFLECT.

I think about my colleagues turned friends. And the colleagues who weren’t, but even thinking of them now just makes me smile with a laugh.

I think about my students who were always all-in, ready to help, wanting to do well every single day, and always entered with a “hi” and left with a “thank you.”

I think about my students who wanted only to do the minimum for a grade; the minimum work, the minimum effort, the minimum thinking. I think about their journey and hope they have figured it out.

I think about my students who struggled with more than I ever have and tried so very hard, sometimes through tears, through cursing, through everything.

I think about my students who were so frustrated with school and yelled and cried and cursed. Sometimes at me. 

I think about my students who laughed with me when no one else got the joke.

I think about the questions we asked and the discussions we had and the books we read and the things you made together. 

I think about my students who were in it with me, questioning and designing and reflecting and willing to try.

I think about the leaders who allowed me to try and asked the important questions along the way.

I think about the people in this very human job and I’m just lucky that I got to do this for so long.

I have other thoughts, too. And since I’m not leaving education, I’ll share them one day. 

But today, it’s only gratitude and amazement at the beauty of this very full experience.

Thank you.