On The Endings of The School Year

June 7, 2011


    I've written several times about saying the goodbyes at the end of the school year.  Last week was full of them, to Continuing students, to colleagues who are leaving for other challenges, to our head of school.  It was an emotionally exhausting week, but each moment needed, both for us left behind and for those moving on.  Time for summer break!

Now let me welcome summer with a sigh,

No more times to say goodbye,

just greetings to early chirps, with breezes soft,

the smell of cut grass, and birds aloft

looking for meals of worms and seeds,

while I sit still and fill my needs

of contemplation of this full school year.

I hold all that happened dear

yet now look toward the weeks of rest.

In catching up, I’ll do my best

I’ll read and think and mop and dust

and lunch with friends, but then I must

be sure to love my family

who are so very dear to me.

They’ve been supportive through the year

and now they need me to be near.

We’ll eat and laugh and play away the days

until the summer cartwheels away.

Then I’ll be ready for another year

of teaching and learning with good cheer. 

Sounds At Dusk

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Evening Sounds Push Back Time

Dusk murmurs heard next door,

down the street,

across the park:

My neighbor crosses over the driveway

asking ‘how is Sarah getting along?’

(My daughter, due in two months.)

I tell ‘she’s fine, getting a little uncomfortable,

but feels good still.’

This time, I hear my grandmother, Sarah,

call “yoo hoo, Mrs. Judy, how are your tomatoes doing?

Mine are not looking so well this year.  Lots of bugs, I think.”

Later, across the park, it’s “come home, Charlie, come home.

It’s getting dark out,

time for bath,

time for bed,

time for stories.”

Then—

“Linda, Linda, are you up in that tree?  It’s really

too dark for you to be climbing still.  Come home now.  Is that

Alice with you?  Alice May, you get on home now.  Your momma’ll

be worried to death.”

My husband clinks away the rake, the shovels.

The broom whispers across the porch, my hands

or my mother’s, final work of today?

Mom, come in, come in to visit a while.

I hear you sweeping on the porch,

at last light,

as I turn the pages of my book.

Summer Memories

          June 4, 2011


       Memories from accessing the senses appear so real sometimes.  I thought I'd like to explore how many of my memories are enhanced by the senses.  This first poem arrived from a summer afternoon treat at a grandparents' home where I visited each summer through most of my growing up years.  I drank a Pepsi and here came the words!

Pepsi Time

Let me by transformed,

if only for a while.

I drink my Pepsi and become

a little girl again.

On the farm

humidity surrounds me.

insects surround-

hurting,

helping.

I escape upstairs

and read stories

from the “Post”,

that magazine of good fiction

I can’t find

anymore.

Newsprint smells

keep me satisfied

again.

For two weeks

I live my childish

life—

nothing to harm me,

no worries around me.

They love me,

daughter of their

lost son.

And feed me biscuits

and stars

                 and Pepsi.

What To Do With All The Goodbyes

June 2, 2011

How should I finish the goodbyes?

I’ve spent the past weeks

finding good, appropriate, warm, special, and creative ways

to say goodbye:

to students who are leaving our school to continue on to high school,

to students who are leaving to attend other schools,

to teachers who are leaving because they’re moving

or because they want a change in their careers,

and to our head of school

who also is moving to another life challenge. 

I feel I am ready to stuff all the goodbyes into one beautiful box.

It will hold all the emotions. 

It will contain the tears and best wishes,

hugs,

waves,

cheers,

good lucks, and

I’ll miss you’s—the fluttery feelings of heartache

that I don’t want to feel anymore. 

They’ll be packed into the box,

shut and taped down for this year,

until next time,

when I ready myself for endings again. 

It reminds me of playing Bingo,

when one stays at the card,

dutifully marking the numbers as they’re called

when you see some on your card. 

Slowly, the squares are taken, and the line is made. 

BINGO is shouted, and it’s over,  

someone has won,

and it’s over. 

You’ve done all you could,

played,

and won or lost, and it’s over. 

That’s how goodbyes feel. 

It’s time to put them all away this year.  

How We Send Our Students Off To High School

June 1, 2011

      Today was a special day for our continuing students (those 8th graders who will move on to high school.)  We celebrated the successes of 20 of them today, many of whom have spent nine years with us.  We've watched some of them from birth onward because their older siblings also attended the school.  It is a fairly typical ceremony, with guest speakers, openings and closings, and a few musical offerings.  What makes it best I think is that each student is allowed to give her or his own speech, telling what they will take with them from their experience, what they hope to give back in the future, and for whom/what they are grateful.  Of course, the speeches are unique to the individual--heartwarming, funny, and inspiring.  It is a long gathering, and all students in the school along with staff, parents, grandparents, family friends, former staff, and school friends attend, about 300 people.  I've never tired of seeing these young adolescents stand in front of a large audience and try their wings.  They are marvelous, and I'm not sure they realize what a gift they are giving us as they speak.  I loved the time with them and will miss them.


                     A Poem For Our Students

                Continuation:

         Sadness underlines today.

      Celebration means goodbye.