Every May, I start to feel nostalgic. It's
the end of another school year, and too soon it'll be time to bid another group of
8th graders farewell as they go off to high school. These last precious weeks are a flurry of excitement for them; they were recently confirmed, they're in the midst of graduation preparations, and they've just returned from their class trip to Washington, DC. Some will stay together throughout high school and remain life-long friends; others will move on and leave the memories of the people and times in Catholic grade school behind forever. Some of them have been together since their very first day of preschool...a decade of academic years strung together by seasons and sacraments. Their past accomplishments flash before us in pictures, year books, and commemorative essays and poems as ceremonial presentations are created. Looking back, we relive each funny, touching, hurtful and exciting memory so we can propel them forward in celebration to a new beginning.
Leaving is truly a milestone in their young lives.
But here I'll stay...ready to welcome the new class of now-fifth graders up into the middle school to start the cycle of goodbye once again. I've been so lucky in my
current position that I get to foster my students for three full years, from sixth through
eighth grade. Our small class sizes allow me to really get to know each individual very, very well...perhaps too well! By the time my kids get to 8th grade, we've developed such a comfortable rapport
that we're like family. We know each others moods, mannerisms and quirks, and our conversations can sometimes take interesting turns that would not always be appropriate in public school. You see, we have liberties in Catholic school that allow us to pray together, hug each other, cry if needed, and offer frank advice that may not fly under the more stringent and litigious guidelines of the public sector.
That close bond presents a struggle for my mother's heart, wanting to
hold on for just a little bit longer until I'm sure each child is going to
be OK in the much bigger, vastly different world of high school. I know, however, that they must be off and on their own in ways they've never been before in order to become who they need to be. My entire job is to prepare them to be ready to go on, so it's not like it's any big surprise that they do, in fact, leave. But it's a bittersweet goodbye for us all. They are so ready to enter into this new phase...but in these last fleeting days...so nervous, sentimental and reluctant to let go of this part of their childhood.
Hundreds
of former students remain in
my memory as the current group looks right about now. They're frozen in time in this awkward stage, half child...half adult, and it's fascinating trying to imagine who they end up
becoming. Recently, thanks to the wonders of social media, I have been
blessed to reconnect with many of my very first students. It's shocking to see them as grown-up adults when my life seems to plod along in an unending loop of school years. Some have children of their own...older than my daughters, in
some cases...and it's been amazing to hear how their stories turn
out.
I often wonder what it is they remember best about our time together -- though sometimes when I find out...it's not at all what I would have expected! I see glimpses of past students in my present classes, marveling at how groups of children can be so similar years apart from each other, living in totally different environmental, social, and economic situations, and seen from my completely different perspective. What will each new group take with them from this shared time? How will I have affected them? I may never find out.
But I know this: each one affects me...each one helps me grow and learn something new. Every school year I find something I can do better because a child has needed me to do better. They all become part of the continuing story of my life, and I anxiously await the next chapter.
