The last day of the summer term always seems to be somewhat eventful for me.
Back in 2010, following a supposed missed miscarriage and much time off, the final day of term was a Friday. I was celebrating in a way as it was the first full week I had managed in school since May half term. I said goodbye to all of my old pupils and we dashed off to the pub to big farewell to a few colleagues. All was well and things were looking up. Or so I thought. On arriving home, I decided a treat was in order, so an Indian was the takeaway of choice; I placed an order. Then, I rang my mum to tell her I’d finally finished my week at work and the summer term! Unfortunately, I stood up after that phone call and haemorrhaged severely. Eventually, after a trip to the out of hours, I was admitted into hospital. They informed me I’d suffered a complete molar pregnancy. I went on to need chemotherapy for this and nearly died as a result. I’ll blog about this at a later date though. The final day of term 2010 was me saying goodbye to life as I knew it. From that moment on, I’ve been haunted by memories and trauma.
I remember being heavily pregnant with my first daughter on the last day of the summer term 2012. Sitting taking the register, it suddenly dawned on me that this would be the last time I did that for this cohort of pupils. They’d experienced highs and lows with me. I taught them from Y4 to Y6, so they’d seen me healthy, unwell, with very little hair, and then finally, dream come true, pregnant. Saying goodbye to them was painful and I sobbed my heart out. I suppose we ought not to show such strong emotions as teachers, but they were “my kids” and I still view them in that way even though they’re all 18 now and getting ready to head off to university or embark on their careers.
And now there’s 2019… I’m going to be saying goodbye to five very precious students of mine. All of them have changed my life far more than I could ever dream of changing theirs. These young adults have altered my way of thinking and also allowed me to make a huge change in terms of my career. I shall miss them all very much and do hope that it’s a “until next time” rather than a “farewell”. I have my tissues ready for the assembly along with my sunglasses… I’ve already shed several tears today. Tomorrow will be unbearable!
And… although, as I said earlier, us teachers probably shouldn’t feel such sadness over our students leaving, I do think it demonstrates that we care deeply for those in our care and that we have built strong relationships with them and their families.