I've been looking forward to tomorrow for 16 weeks. The last day of student teaching. Every morning as I would slump out of my bed onto the floor, sludge into the bathroom, and catch sight of a full moon out my window, I would imagine the pitiful euphoria of waking up on purpose without swearing. When I would empty my pockets at night to find a squashed grape, uncapped marker, and used tissues, (not mine), I would imagine the pleasure of getting cleaned up in the morning and still looking half-way cleaned up at noon. Every lunch duty as I continued my never-ending battles with puddings that squirt and juice boxes without straws, I imagined breezy summer lunches on patios with adults who can cut their own meat and butter their own bread.
But there were a few things I didn't take into account being over.
The little girl who's convinced I have the same reflex as the Pillsbury dough boy, and therefore hides behind me so she can poke my belly button and giggle.
The little guy who reminds me every day that there's no school on Saturdays, that we haven't had a fire drill in a while, and that he's going to Colorado in six months and 10, 9, 8 days.
The way they all squeal in unison over the cuteness of the pre-school class that is approximately, oh, six months younger than they are.
The girls that bury their noses in my shirt and tell me I smell good, even at 3:30.
Having to get after them for plowing each other down so they can be the first to hold my hand.
Telling them to keep their little light-up sneakers off the knealers in chapel.
Asking the standard, "Did you wash? Did you flush?" question.
Putting moleskin on a monkey bar callous that was "killing them" until I fixed it.
The little boy that used his whole recess waiting outside the classroom door, hoping I would come out and have a basketball dribbling contest with him.
Fixing the left hands over hearts during the Pledge.
Getting called Mom.
Trying to help them over the Ohio slump when they learned the Fifty Nifty song.
Asking "who's there" no matter how many times I've been glad orange who didn't say banana.
Falling for their April Fool's jokes.
Thirty minute impromptu conversations about heaven that were deeper than any I had in college philosophy.
Putting a black square of paper over a page in a book because they said the picture of Adam and Eve was "inappropriate."
Finding all the rice-crispy treats I've confiscated and forgotten to give back in my desk drawer.
Knowing that saying "hold your horses" will induce instant giggling.
Trying to work out 6 year-old girl drama while keeping a straight face.
Feeling foreheads.
The way they all cheered and yelled, "Be free! Have a good life!" when we released our butterflies.
The little girls that held each other and cried during the crucifixion in our animated Passion of the Christ movie.
Giving my hangman eye-lashes, birth marks, and jewelry so they win.
Being consistently late to specials because sometimes walking with them is like herding cats.
Those things, I didn't count on.
"Can't we go back to page one, and do it all over again?" ~ Winnie the Pooh
