These are the ones who listen, the ones who bring food when you are injured. Today, they are the ones who have planned a celebratory lunch at The Kitchen, a mecca of exquisitely fresh food, delightfully prepared and presented. They are marking my transition to a new job. They bring me honor I don’t truly feel I deserve, yet they insist that I do. The bread is served on a board with a triangle of butter and a bowl of chunky sea salt. The asparagus quiche is light and fluffy; the bolognese on the penne has a unique twist to its flavor. We make the indulgence complete by ordering dessert. I get the pot of chocolate with cream, sighing with pleasure as I eat each warm, creamy spoonful. There is nothing better than true friends and chocolate at the same time!

When we returned from our hike, we discovered some major limbs from our front yard maple had broken off in the storm and fallen just inches away from my car.

Goodbye is hard, especially when it means I won’t be in the building to greet you in the hallways next year. I will remember your hands going up to create vocabulary sentences each day. I will remember the drawings of your names in the Greek alphabet; your faces when I was still in my cast racing across the room in my scooter with the Hello Kitty bag hanging from the handle bars; Nick drawing my alphabet pig in his notebook; 7th period asking to hear an animal noise; Aaron’s chart on feelings toward Creon, the swaying of the chorus during the Odes in Antigone. I will remember the day Jess wrote 16 tankas, Rebecca’s amazing chocolate covered peanut butter balls, throwing the foam apple for reviewing questions in the Mythology Unit.

How can it be that it is the end of the year already? There is a room inside me that holds the memories of every student. If you see me three years from now, I may not have your name on the tip of my tongue, but I’ll know your face. Study your word roots. Read. Express yourself in poetry. Remember that learning can be fun. You can be whatever you want to be. When I was fifteen, I said I wanted to have five children. I had one, but I became a teacher and had hundreds. Come visit me at Good Shepherd! Have an awesome summer. Here is a big hug: (     ) I love you more than I can say.

At the end of third period, students visited the 9th grade English class to share some of their poems. They read from a variety of work created throughout our poetry unit. What struck me was how many different types of poems we wrote. It is joyous to see the students confidently sharing their writing. I will miss not having the opportunity to work with the current freshman next year. Many of the students have expressed disappointment about my departure.

Sometimes finding out what you don’t want is just as important as finding out what you do want.

I am in the midst of grading 88 research papers that I assigned to my 10th grade students. They each picked a poet from the Colorado Poet Center website. I was inspired reading an email exchange between a student and poet, Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer, who writes a poem everyday. I have written an article about the project for the summer issue of the Colorado Poets Center newsletter.