It was the last day of school. I wasn't prepared to be so emotional to watch the busses drive off carrying seas of waving arms through pushed down windows in the North Carolina heat.
It's my second year working in the school system. As a speech therapist, my previous years have been spent with patients following strokes, families working through Alzheimer's, people who have lost the ability to communicate or at times eat and drink.
The thought of working in the schools however...terrified me. How would I know what to do? How could I work with a whole group of kids at one time when all they wanted to do is talk about making slime, doing "the floss" or how they couldn't wait to get home to play, "Fortnite".
Don't even get me started on Fortnite.
But something happened. Student reports and IEPs became more than just names or written documents. Meeting the students last year with apprehension and uncertainty, grew into knowing them through their ups and downs. Soccer championships and loss of loved ones. Family pets and birthday parties. The stories and love of life each child shared grew to the point where it became impossible not to revel in their successes and hurt in their pain.
What I've discovered however, is when you're used to dealing more often with people at the end stages of their lives, your hope is to give them as much love and comfort as possible. You hold the hands of a 98 year old who smiles and whispers they're ready to "go home". You hug the family members of a great grandfather who had the fastest horse in the county back in the day.
It's completely different on this other side. It's the beginning. The beginning of life and you hope you're giving them the most you possibly can to prepare them for the future. To give the right tools to a fifth grader who confides in you how embarrassed he gets when he stutters in front of his class as you pray to God he thrives and takes on the unknown of middle school like a rock star.
To hug a third grader and give high fives because they're this close to getting that 's' sound, making it easier for people to understand them when they speak.
It's a whole different world and it's one where you wonder and dream of what each child might become. Deep down knowing for most however, you'll never know...so you watch as busses take them away for the last time.
The administration, teachers and staff at our school are amazing and we hugged and danced to "Kool and the Gang", before going back to our rooms to prepare them for hibernation.
Fall will come soon enough bringing back a new year of ups and downs, soccer championships, family pets and birthday parties all while hoping for the brightest futures for those students who didn't return, their lives taking different paths.
There's an incredibly new found respect for people in the education system who've done this their entire lives...an admiration on a level you'll never know. Thank You for making a difference in this world one child at a time, while encouraging them to spread their wings. I don't know how you've done it year after year, but pray sometimes you've known the joy of those who've returned...allowing you to see just how far they've flown.
The thought of working in the schools however...terrified me. How would I know what to do? How could I work with a whole group of kids at one time when all they wanted to do is talk about making slime, doing "the floss" or how they couldn't wait to get home to play, "Fortnite".
Don't even get me started on Fortnite.
But something happened. Student reports and IEPs became more than just names or written documents. Meeting the students last year with apprehension and uncertainty, grew into knowing them through their ups and downs. Soccer championships and loss of loved ones. Family pets and birthday parties. The stories and love of life each child shared grew to the point where it became impossible not to revel in their successes and hurt in their pain.
What I've discovered however, is when you're used to dealing more often with people at the end stages of their lives, your hope is to give them as much love and comfort as possible. You hold the hands of a 98 year old who smiles and whispers they're ready to "go home". You hug the family members of a great grandfather who had the fastest horse in the county back in the day.
It's completely different on this other side. It's the beginning. The beginning of life and you hope you're giving them the most you possibly can to prepare them for the future. To give the right tools to a fifth grader who confides in you how embarrassed he gets when he stutters in front of his class as you pray to God he thrives and takes on the unknown of middle school like a rock star.
To hug a third grader and give high fives because they're this close to getting that 's' sound, making it easier for people to understand them when they speak.
It's a whole different world and it's one where you wonder and dream of what each child might become. Deep down knowing for most however, you'll never know...so you watch as busses take them away for the last time.
The administration, teachers and staff at our school are amazing and we hugged and danced to "Kool and the Gang", before going back to our rooms to prepare them for hibernation.
Fall will come soon enough bringing back a new year of ups and downs, soccer championships, family pets and birthday parties all while hoping for the brightest futures for those students who didn't return, their lives taking different paths.
There's an incredibly new found respect for people in the education system who've done this their entire lives...an admiration on a level you'll never know. Thank You for making a difference in this world one child at a time, while encouraging them to spread their wings. I don't know how you've done it year after year, but pray sometimes you've known the joy of those who've returned...allowing you to see just how far they've flown.
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