"The LORD will watch over your coming and going,
both now and forevermore."
Psalm 121:8
May is just a difficult month for teachers--the ambivalence of cheering for summer's arrival and grieving the departure of our sweet students. So much end-of-school business: book returns, exam reviews, grade decisions... Underneath the tasks I hear echoes of that 70s song, "We May Never Pass This Way Again." We are eager to mark items off our checkout list, a step closer to the reprieve we call summer; yet we know these children who have been an important part of our lives for the last nine months are about to move on.
This year, most especially, I am filled with conflicting emotions as the school year ends. I reflect on its painful beginnings as Dr. Day called Jim on his way to Open House (August 29th) to let him know the results of the biopsy. Jim told me after we got home, and we cried together until late in the evening. The next day was my student teacher's first day, but I couldn't say anything to him or anyone until we were able to get in touch with the older boys and tell them. To say that was an excruciating, long day is mild. But the Lord was my confidant throughout the day as I prayed and prayed and pled for His strength. During my conference period I went out to my car (a makeshift sanctuary) and spilled out my heart to Him. I then called my mom, knowing she would lend a voice of encouragement. Only with the Lord's supernatural power was I able to endure that life-changing day.
That same week I shared with my students the cancer journey that our family would be taking. I asked them to please pray with me as we walked along this unknown path. A handful of students I already knew well since these are Hunter's junior classmates; however, most of them I had not had time to build relationships with; they had only been in my class for two weeks. But their sympathetic looks silently offered their support, and I felt certain they would be our allies in this battle.
And that they have been. I couldn't have asked for more kind, compassionate young people. Every day that I was out in the fall for Jim's appointments or treatments I would return to a note from the substitute saying how wonderful they had been--diligent and respectful. Frequently they would ask, "How is your husband doing?" or "How are the treatments going?" Several former students (seniors) would stop by between classes just to let me know they were praying. Shortly after I had taken the leave of absence, Hunter brought a banner home that many of my students had signed, offering their encouragement and prayers for our family. The senior class officers, ambassadors, and SGA together created an "Encourajar" that was filled with candy and handwritten notes (many of them Scriptures). Since my return in mid-March students have been so gracious, trying their best to remain attentive and engaged despite springtime distractions. Their genuine concern and tenderness have touched me deeply.
When I was skimming through students' class evaluations last week, my heart warmed as I read one student's comment: "This class felt like family." That was it--family supports one another, prays for one another, shows kindness and respect for one another. That may have been the most rewarding observation yet. Here in a school of 2600, some of these students have experienced the gift of an extended family. Yes, this class of 2013 (and my alumni from the class of '12) have been extraordinary. What a blessing they have been! No wonder it's so hard to let them go.
Following tradition, on the last Friday before exams I read Dr. Seuss's classic, Oh, the Places You'll Go. (Throughout the year I read a children's book the last ten minutes of class on Fridays--probably students' favorite time of the whole week!) God was faithful to allow me to make it through--a little teary-eyed but no flash floods. (I had prayed specifically that morning because even in a good year this one is tough.) I love to end on this book because its message is so relevant, so encouraging. On the last page the narrator says, "Be on your way!" and I've always been grateful that he doesn't say "goodbye." However, recently I learned the origin of the word goodbye. I read that its first use was in the late 1500s as godbwye--a contraction for "God be with ye." After the influences of "good day" and "good evening," goodbye evolved. I love that. So now as these precious children leave my room this week, I will purposefully say, "Goodbye"--God be with you.
Among my many blessings I count my profession. I am so thankful that the Lord called me to teach all those years ago. Although some faces and names have faded through the years, each student is somehow woven into the tapestry of my life. When May comes, we prepare for the separation with a blend of sadness and joy. No, we shall not pass this way again, but as my sweet friend Leisa says, "Don't cry because it's over; smile because it happened." We teachers are blessed indeed.
"He has made everything beautiful in its time." (Eccl. 3:11)
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