A Goodbye

First of all, hello! I apologize about my brief hiatus. My students found my Instagram account (sneaky little buggers), which had a link to my blog on it. And they Tweeted it all over the place. So, I had to take a little break in hopes they would forget about the link and move on with their ever-so-pressing lives and forget about mine. Hopefully, this will never happen again, because:

Today is my last day as a teacher.

I didn’t expect to get so emotional about it. In fact, I sure haven’t been emotional about it at all for the past few months. It has reinforced my thinking—yes, this is the right decision because you’re not sad about it!

 

Even as I packed up my room:

 

Even as I attended graduation:

{With my two fav seniors, Maddie and Lindsey}

Even as my colleagues threw me a party to say goodbye a few weeks ago:

{With Holly, Mindy and Kim, the super-fun math department}

{With Erica and Megan, my two long-time best friends}

Even as my kiddos “threw me a party” (it was mostly two liters of pop and a random bag of Cheez-its…and this sweet cookie cake):

 

And even as my students wrote me notes in my yearbook and gave me cards they had signed, I really wasn’t that sad about it. Even as I wrote notes to a few students who were exceptionally bright, or witty, or who just stood out to me this year, I just didn’t feel that sad. Everyone kept asking me, “How are you doing?” “Are you feeling okay?” And my standard reply was, “It just hasn’t really hit me yet.”

 

Yesterday, it hit me. It actually crushed me like a bulldozer. We had our end of the year staff luncheon, and our principal called up the group of us who are leaving. We had the opportunity to say something if we wanted. I knew about this ahead of time, and had planned out a little thank you speech. I had even rehearsed it, so I wouldn’t be too emotional and I knew what I would say.

 

That all pretty much went out the window. First of all, I was at the end of the line, so I had to listen to everyone else’s goodbyes. Secondly, I was standing next to two of my best friends at school who are also leaving. We had all been on this ride together—we had worked at a different school together, we had opened this school together three years ago, we had served  on committees  together, we had grown as teachers together.  When my friend Mindy got the mic, she couldn’t even say anything, she was so choked up. So of course, I started bawling. When my fellow English teacher bestie Tyson started speaking, I could only look at my shoes, because if I looked at him or the other teachers in the room, my somewhat controlled tears (not really, but I'm trying to make myself feel better) would have given way to ugly, uncontrollable heaving and sobbing. And that, friends, is super embarrassing.

 

It had finally hit me: this was it. I wouldn’t be seeing these people on a daily basis. I wouldn’t be sending funny (and/or snarky) emails to my friends at work about crazy occurrences in my classroom. I wouldn’t be eating lunch with my department and laughing about whatever was going on. This wasn’t my home anymore. And boy oh boy, did I feel sad. My well-rehearsed little spiel? Down the tubes. I could barely form words, let alone deliver my eloquent "thank yous" and "goodbyes."

 

I still feel like I am making the right decision. I am so excited about finding a new career path, and I know I will be successful at a different occupational venture. There are plenty of things I won’t miss about teaching, but there are plenty of things I will miss, too. This job has shaped a huge part of who I am and what I value, and I hope my school family knows how much they mean to me.