My vision of the last day of school was much like my vision of the first: excited children, crying and unstable mother, happy teacher and a wonderful sense of accomplishment. Things are not always as I envision, Kate having spent the past two days on the sofa full of fever and ilk. Her last day of kindergarten was Monday, thankfully the day they "stepped up" to first grade. What she will remember is the incredible year where she learned to go to school, and not the dismal ending, which must be the silver lining to a truly dreary and unceremonious finale.
Mary bounded out the door today with her father, full of school day eagerness, clearly not really understanding that this was the last day that they would walk to the corner, find a taxi and make the short trip to school. The idea that tomorrow would be lazy and unhurried, without the dash out the door that we have perfected over nine months, was lost on her.
I've missed them, my two always companions. It's time for picnics and beaches, a break from the routine that took so long to establish. Of course I realize now that I will miss this new order, days spent writing, without the constant humm of children. My afternoon dash to the school, waiting for the final bell with new friends, wonderful moms who I have spent the past year getting to know; certainly tomorrow afternoon some internal bell will sound and for just a moment I'll panic that I am late to retrieve the kindergartners.
Kate was fever free and ready to say good-bye to her friends by afternoon; we were in the classroom when the final bell sounded and the former kindergartners made their final dash to the playground door. Excited children, crying mother, happy teacher and a great sense of accomplishment, just as I suspected it might be.
Thank you for a wonderful year, it's been the perfect beginning to a lifetime of learning.