Every year it’s the same.

We rush to the finish line because it feels as if we can’t get there fast enough.

Report cards. IPPs. Farewells. Desks pushed against walls. Chairs stacked to the ceiling…almost. Walls bared. Books put away. Keys returned.

Every year it’s the same.

And when the last day arrives. The day we’ve all been waiting for, it’s bittersweet. It’s anticlimactic. There is sadness and joy all mixed in together.

Another year is done.

And then the regrets start to pile up.

Every year it’s the same.

The shouldas, wouldas, couldas start rearing their ugly heads.

The faces of the kids we couldn’t reach.

The assignments that bombed.

The wasted time.

Every year it’s the same.

And, yet, the successes beckon in spite of the negatives.

The kid who stood up for herself for all her right reasons.

The laughs and chuckles when someone cracked a joke. When I cracked a joke.

The student who enthusiastically debated a point with their classmates.

The surprise visits at home from students who wanted to meet me in person.

The candid declarations made by shy students during one-on-one sessions.

The breakthroughs. The stories. The joys.

The end of a school year is bittersweet.

Every year it’s the same.

The resilience. The encouragement. The kind words – often from student to student.

We made it, even through the hard parts. We learned. We struggled. We took risks. We fell down. We picked ourselves up again.

I am ready to rejuvenate.

Ready for a brand new opportunity to get it just right.

Every year it’s the same.

Cross posted to The Two Writing Teachers Tuesday Slice of Life Story Challenge.