I've reflected before on how a space can become a time capsule- guarding and subduing a memory's strength until its reunion with the memory keeper. Sitting in my empty classroom, the memories are released one by one. I can sense the silhouettes of my students rummaging through the blinds and books searching for scavenger hunt clues. They open and shut the cabinets, peer beneath the desks and tables, and shuffle through papers.
I hear her sheepishly confess of her first "real crush." I can see his face tear-stained as he composed an eloquent personal narrative about the loss of his beloved dog. I feel the impetus to jump up and down upon receiving notice that she passed her math test. I am sitting in the chair where he thanked me for becoming his "middle school mom." I smile as he asks in broken English if he can "take a shower for his hands."
So many sweet memories. So many emotions contained within a trapezoid classroom with stained roof tiles. Tears were shed here, laughter spilled recklessly, a thousand hugs and handshakes exchanged, two million gallons of "Fantastic Spray" were emptied, and numerous 'hard conversations' permanently claim this space.
This room became the home for my family. The nostalgia forms a thick fog of emotion, and I am held here. This classroom now possesses such an important season of my life. It holds me like a secret that no one else can fully comprehend. While I must bid this sacred space farewell, it will always hold a piece of me that I cannot reclaim.
Above all I am grateful for this place. This season may be trapped within these walls, but the lessons I have learned will stay with me eternally. I pray the same holds true for my students and for every colleague that blessed me by visiting this seasonal sanctuary.
Farewell, P168. Thank you for revealing so many attributes that I did not realize I possessed- the good and the bad. Thank you for remaining in my absence and awaiting our next reunion. Thank you for teaching me how to be a teacher, a wife, a mother, and a friend. Thank you for infinitely protecting this precious season.
So long, GMS. Thank you for an amazing year.