Tomorrow is my daughter’s last day of elementary school. Today was mine. I volunteered at the end of the school year Luau and helped some kids make bookmarks out of paper clips and yarn. I treated myself to a SnoCone in the parking lot and I left at noon. I was talking with some moms early in the day about this being my last event there and wondered when it would hit me that I really wouldn’t be going back to the school. It hit me when I was leaving the building. I had my hand on the door to leave and I saw the principal unloading boxes in the hall. I thought about saying “good-bye” but thought I might tear up. I didn’t want to cry. What in the world would I cry about? I’m leaving this school building after volunteering there for 24 years! Yes, I have had kids in this building for 24 years. I wonder if it would’ve been so hard if I had only had one or two kids and had only been a part of that place for 7-10 years like most families. Is this such a big deal because I have walked these halls for so long?
Or is it really a big deal at all? Not really. It’s been kind of fun having seniority there. I’ve had many opportunities to watch the 5th-grade band students perform their Christmas concert after only 3 months on their new instruments. It’s been fun attending Open House, Science Fairs, Literacy Nights and elementary basketball games. And, even though we joke about having to hear Hot Cross Buns played on the Recorder annually, today it feels like it will be something I miss. I left the building today and there is a good chance I won’t be going back. At this point, I don’t have hopes for grandchildren attending this school and I honestly don’t know if I’m a good enough aunt to really attend those concerts on their behalf. I have officially signed out of that building for the last time.
Maybe this post is a little premature. My daughter still has one more day at that school. There’s still a chance that I will have to go and pick up a forgotten clarinet or her extra tennis shoes. I may even find a library book under the couch that will need to be returned. There is just no way to know for sure.
When my daughter comes home from school tomorrow, I feel certain that she will have the confidence she needs to move on to the high school in the fall. The question is, will I? Lord willing, we both will!
I’ll leave you with an oldie but a goodie:
For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Jeremiah 29:11 NIV