Today was the last day of school. The children, of course, were thrilled. Mostly. One little girl was hugging Bug and crying. Yesterday she was crying as well. The parents were invited to a tea party (actually punch and cookies) in the classroom at 2:15 to thank us for our volunteering, and to do a little recitation for us--the Three Bears rap. They moved their desks together and set their chairs out in rows for us. I got their early and was chatting with the students about their summer plans. During that time I found out that some of the children would not be returning the next year as they were there on a variance. One of the children, Sandy, is a friend of Bug's and she was quite upset about it. I found out later that the only variances given were to returning 6th graders, and then they were going to wait until August to grant anymore.

Today was early dismissal, so I went about 10 minutes early to see them in the classroom one last time. All the posters were off the walls, the desks were stacked and the chairs pushed together in a pile. The children were sitting on the floor, and she was calling them up one by one to hug them good-bye and let them get in line by the door. Her book rack was mainly empty as this teacher, like her teacher last year, is retiring and let each child choose some books. There was still a book in the rack that Bean had taken a shine to the day before, so she got it out and was happily exclaiming over the photos even as the bell rang. It reminded me of the year before when Bean was just so happy to be invited into the classroom that she was getting textbooks out and trying to show her big sister even as the children were counting down to the ringing bell.

This time there was no countdown as the teacher was doing her special good-bye, but the bell rang and I heard cheering all around outside. When we exited the room, School's Out (for summer) started blasting through the intercom. Kids were ecstatic and it was a just an exciting thing to be around. Some children in the classroom had told Bean she could keep the book she was admiring, so I had her ask the teacher and Bean got to take it with her.

Bug's teacher had a piano in her classroom, and she'd use it to teach the children songs and sing with them in the morning right before the lesson started, but she also played a few loud chords to bring them to attention when things were chaotic, like yesterday at the end of the tea party. I thought it was so nice that it was a classroom with a piano, and today I saw it was gone. I asked her if she had moved it out to take home, but apparently it was going down to a classroom at the end of the building where there were some teachers who also play and were interested in having a piano in their classroom. Wonderful!

We walked out to the front of the school where happy children abounded, and I saw that once again, Sandy was sobbing and holding onto Bug. She was so upset that she wouldn't be returning to school, but I told her there was still a chance she would get her variance in August. I don't think she realized that. Maybe her father just figures it will be easier for her to go to school in the correct zone.

The children played out on the grass, as they had all year, for one last time. An early game that hadn't been played in quite some time was trotted out again: the fall down whenever Bean lightly pushed on anyone causing her to shriek in laughter game. I would say their enthusiasm is infectious, but it's bittersweet to see it. Yesterday the teacher was crying, parents were crying, I was choking back tears myself. The teacher said that the year seemed to go by so fast. I told her that they all seem to go by pretty fast anymore these days, although it seems like Bean has been in the trying threes forever.

I was in second grade once. I can still remember the classroom and the teacher and a lot of the students. And now I am 40. Each year only comes around once, and back when I was in elementary school, they all seemed to be the same, but wow, you are only a kid once. Thank goodness, I guess, but it's still such a bittersweet thing. I am so maudlin all the time lately, but really I've always had that tendency. The tendency in a time of happiness where you might be almost lost in your own feeling to stop and look around and consider the walls of the room, and how we'd be leaving them soon, but they would still be standing there even when the happy throng had long dispersed.

On the lawn today was a new tree, planted by the 6th graders on Monday during their special celebration. It was tied with purple ribbons in tribute of the little girl who never got to finish 6th grade and will be forever remembered as a student of that school. She died this year so there will never be another school for her. All in all, then, I'm happy that I get to celebrate these yearly endings because the alternative is heartbreaking.