I finished up at school a little earlier than Heidi today, and so I sat quietly in my classroom and waited. It was all packed up for the summer-- all surfaces clear and bookshelves neatly wrapped in white butcher paper. The blinds were drawn to conserve energy, and I was still enough to fool the motion sensors into turning the lights off.
As I sat in the silence of the cool dim room, I calculated how much time I had actually spent there. Added all together it came out to over three solid years. No wonder I feel so much ownership of it; thank goodness I feel so happy there; it's hardly surprising that it's always a little bittersweet to leave for summer break.
A couple days ago, one of the students asked me how big my garden was. I thought for a moment, and looked around. "It's almost exactly the same size as this room!" I told her. We were both kind of impressed by that. This afternoon, I remembered that conversation, this time as I stood in my garden, puttering around on the first day of summer vacation.
As I sat in the silence of the cool dim room, I calculated how much time I had actually spent there. Added all together it came out to over three solid years. No wonder I feel so much ownership of it; thank goodness I feel so happy there; it's hardly surprising that it's always a little bittersweet to leave for summer break.
A couple days ago, one of the students asked me how big my garden was. I thought for a moment, and looked around. "It's almost exactly the same size as this room!" I told her. We were both kind of impressed by that. This afternoon, I remembered that conversation, this time as I stood in my garden, puttering around on the first day of summer vacation.
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