Bittersweet

At long last, the school year has drawn to a close. I set a personal record for cleaning up my classroom, a heavier task this year since I had to make sure everything was in order for someone else. Seeing the buses depart with kids waving goodbye, seeing my classroom without my plants by the windows and pictures on the wall, but seeing the invisible evidence of my presence here in the memories and hugs of students, it all leaves an empty feeling behind. Empty, like my classroom as I turn off the light and close the door, empty like the dark office, where I turn in my keys, empty like the playground, silent for the summer.
Saying goodbye to my 300 + students has been hard, especially the ones I am making sad by leaving, the ones whom I have a closer connection with, the ones who found a safe and happy place in my room.

I have been here only 3 years, which is relatively short, so it would be much harder to go if I had been here longer. However, it has been long enough to make some good changes, gain experience, form relationships, and to confirm that my talents lie beyond elementary music. I don’t want to become a bitter grouch with a smiling face, I want to leave when the memories are mostly good and the kids can remember me as a caring and positive person, unlike my predecessor. I feel like a jerk for not telling the kids sooner, but I guess I wanted them to be happy and secure as long as possible, and not feel totally abandoned by taking the cowardly route and not telling them at all.

Now I have to let go and trust that the next teacher will do just fine, accept that they will change things (a hard thing for the control-freak in me to do!), and hope that my children make the transition to being someone else’s children without much heartache. The new teacher will have to be a strong individual; it is harder to follow in the steps of someone who is well liked than it is to follow someone who has left behind a void to fill.

I think that anything truly significant and valuable makes a lasting impression; I hope I have left some impression, whether it be something I taught, the way I taught it, or God touching them through me. Hopefully those things will provide a positive foundation for the next person to build on. So this is bittersweet; letting go of the people and the good things I have here, but moving on toward something I have dreamed of, moving on to new relationships and new happiness and a future open to many possibilities.

There is a sign hanging in the teachers’ lunch room that is a good reminder: “They may not remember what you said, but they will remember how you made them feel.”