Emotional woman + last day of classes with very small, very cute people = coo
Good-bye dinners with people who have taken care of me all year = coo
It is, unbelievably, that time of year. My little first graders are going to grow up into 2nd graders. My fourth graders, who have come SO far in English class this year, are going to be 5th graders, which are practically graduating 6th graders.... But I won't be here to see it. And despite my frustration with our school and program administration, I love many of my fellow teachers and the kids we teach.
"Coo" means "cry," something that is essentially unavoidable during transitions in my life.
Every first grader was given a little heart-shaped sticky note. Which they then took turns trying to stick to me. It was difficult to communicate to them "No, sticking it to my skin will not work. I am simply perspiring too much." They did, however, cover the front and back of my shirt, part of my capris, and even one on my glasses.
One of the first grade homeroom teachers made me a handmade book with photos from teaching her class all year. And she collected all the students' notes into a little portfolio. When I started looking at these, one of the first graders turned to my co-teacher, who was taking pictures. He said "She's going to cry. 3...2...1.... she's crying." Smart boy, learning to read women that early in life.