zella said purple: the quiet classroom

End of the school year always brings such mixed feelings for me.

The last two years I have been an instructor at a state university in California and even closing the grades with college age students stills brings the same feelings for me.

The investment, relationships, personalities, understandings, discussions, 'aha' moments, struggles, joys...they are all bundled into the final days at a school and the days afterward when the classroom is so quiet. So very quiet.

how could you NOT miss these faces, these personalities, these people?

For now, though, it is the bittersweet tug-of-war of emotions of being glad for a summer break and also being sad that the group I just finished working with will never form together the same again. I tell people that I can compare it to a business model of work - it is like every year my entire "department" of colleagues leaves, it just happens that my colleagues are five-years-old. Sigh.

Here is the my favorite, all time favorite, poem that I use when I work with young children and their families. This poem is usually the end paper in the children's individual portfolio books. The poem is the most lovely, quirky, exact compilation of how I feel, what I wish, how I have joy, how I have sorrow.

Here is the incomparable wordsmith talents of Jack Prelutsky:

Today I'm going yesterday as quickly as I can,

I'm confident I'll do it, I've devised a clever plan,

it involves my running backward at a constant rate of speed,

if I'm mindful of my timing I'll undoubtedly succeed.

Today I'm going yesterday I'm moving very fast,

as I'm putting off the future for the rather recent past,

I can feel the pressure fading as I hastily depart,

and look forward to arriving on the day before I start.

Today I'm going yesterday I'm slipping out of sight,

and anticipate I'll vanish just a bit before tonight,

when I reach my destination, I'll compose a note to say,