The Melancholy Of June

Tomorrow is the last day of school, and for me, the melancholy of June has set in like a thick fog blanketing my heart.   Time has flown by, and while all three of you become giddy at the prospect of next year, I’m overcome with sadness facing the reality that time seems to only pass more quickly with each subsequent year.  It’s unthinkable that one of you will graduate from high school in eight years.  I’m trying very hard to balance this out with my overwhelming sense of pride for how you’ve grown and what you’ve learned this year.  Good teachers make all the difference, and how lucky we’ve been.

We’ve packed up countless show and tells, clipped Box-Tops diligently, studied for spelling tests, and made a science fair project.  I proudly watched you mail away your bear for a cross-country trek, and study the fifty states.  I’ve helped you learn to write your letters, and read your first pages aloud.  We’ve studied times tables and brainstormed journal topics.  We’ve done preventative lice care, removed a few ticks, and stayed home for a couple of sick days, wrapped up in cozy fleece blankets.  I’ve volunteered in your classes as mystery guest reader, writing coach, and journal helper.  We’ve had good days, where we’ve headed out the door on time and everyone is smiling.  We’ve had days when I have been a yelling impatient taxi driver, stepping on the gas as we swerve around the curve at the top of the street, hoping to make the bus.  You’ve come home happy, angry, sad, tired, and anxious needing hugs, praise, reassurance, and more.   I’ll miss you, kindergartner, second grader, and fourth grader.

Now, bring on summer, fun, and sun!  You’re all mine for the next eight weeks, and I can’t think of ANYTHING better!