Last Day

Because I have been teaching art for so long, my last of school usually looks different than other teachers Typically, I don’t see kids and spend the last day packing up the room. Sometimes kids drop by and ask me to sign their yearbooks. Some cry and I have been puzzled by that in the past. It is the last day of school. Summer vacation. Why the heck would anyone cry about that! This year, I had my first ever traditional LAST day of school and I found myself numb for a few days.

When my parents were killed I noticed that I seemed to have a switch on my emotions. I had the power to turn them off and move ahead with the things that needed to be done. Last year, the switch broke and layers of grief and trauma broke through and I was terrified all the time. I left teaching 300 students a week, because I thought fifteen kids would be easier. Instead those fifteen kids taught me that there is no off switch to trauma. There is no easy.

I had no idea that being a classroom teacher and managing all the curriculum would be such a learning curve. I mean I managed six grade levels as an art teacher and tons of supplies and ways of approaching art. Mostly, I just had to do reading and writing and math and science and social studies. And the scope and sequence was laid out for me. How hard could that be? Pretty hard when my group of kids couldn’t easily access grade level content, and they really weren’t super interested in trying to access it either.

The academic battle was only part of the problem. I was dealing with kids who had been seriously traumatized. All of them? Yea. All in their own way. One of them told me about his memories of sleeping on the sidewalk. He said he had a little bedroll and he would sleep tight up against a wall, so no one would step on him. He told me that he would never forget the bad times, because that helped him appreciate the good times. Outwardly this kid seemed like he had it going on with good attendance and good grades, but the moment he stumbled, he’d start hitting himself with a ruler or bang his head on the desk. As the year went on I saw their traumas triggered over and over. Behavior is communication.

Somehow we made it to the end. They grew in math and English. But it didn’t feel clean or tidy. I didn’t feel like I did my job, because I don’t think they are prepared well for the next grade. I was ready to end my time with them because I was exhausted, but I didn’t know how to say goodbye and send them on their next journey. It felt like I was sending kids to a battle with toy guns.

On a whim, I decided to give them gifts. Not teacher gifts of school supplies and trinkets and candy, but real gifts that showed thought and maybe gifts to give them a little hope, or a little reminder that someone believes in them. I bought some of the gifts, like I gave one of the girls a baseball bat. I told her that she was not allowed to hit anyone with it, or destroy property with it. I told her major league ball players signed their bats and they were worth a lot of money sometimes. So I signed her bat and told her that I wanted to be invited to her first high school game.

Some of the gifts were more sentimental. I gave another girl a mirror that had been my mother’s. I told her about how beautiful my mother was and how she could always see the good in everyone . I told this girl that my mother would have loved her and she would have wanted someone to use her mirror everyday instead of just leaving it in a box. I saw this girl take the mirror out of her bag three times and look at herself. I hope one day she sees what I see.

After the bell rang and the kids left, I went outside to the playground and worked on the llama mural for awhile. One of the girls came over from her house and sat with me. I gave her some paint and had her put snow on the mountain tops. When I met this kid in August, she reminded me of a squirrel. One day she asked me if I liked hugs. I remember it was not a good moment, but I hugged her for a second and it actually brought down my blood pressure. After that moment, she became my fave. She worked so hard and grew so much. I am so proud of her. Her heart is so good, even though her eleven year old life has had so much pain.

So yeah. I had all these feelings the last day of school with these kids I tried to not think about it at first, but I know that turning off emotions doesn’t work out so well. Truth is, I don’t know if I will ever see any of them again. I might never know what happens to them. 5th grade. Just nine months in a life.

I will never forget Room 201. These children were given to me for a while. They taught me so much about strength and resilience. Sometimes I wonder why I keep getting more lessons in strength, but instead of questioning why, I am just trying to appreciate all the gifts.