The young mom arrives at preschool, holding a check in her hand. Before dropping it into the tuition box, she announces, “this is the last preschool tuition payment I will ever make.” Next school year, her youngest will attend kindergarten, and preschool will be a season seen only in her rearview mirror.
May in Kansas marks the end of the school year, and with this school year’s end, our family will recognize many lasts. Our youngest is finishing his last year as an elementary school student, making every event on the calendar from here until the end of May becomes a last. The last elementary school field day, or the last choir performance. Our eldest is finishing out his middle school years, and likewise, his school year ends with every event being “the last time.”
As we recognize this season of last moments for our children, we also recognize a season of last (at least for now) moments for me. For the past seven years, I have taught tiny humans in a preschool classroom. This year due to pandemic life, I have not been able to teach in my regular classroom but have been blessed to work beside some other excellent teachers in theirs. While I have grieved the loss of what was, I have also recognized that with Multiple Sclerosis, I can not be my best in all the places, all the time. A tough decision has been made not to return to my classroom as the lead teacher next school year. While I will continue to stay connected with preschool life as a substitute teacher, this May marks some last moments for me as a teacher.
Due to pandemic life, the normally expected events, field trips, fun days, and more will not happen in this season of lasts. And while it can be sad, we are also filled with gratitude. Having spent much of the school year remote and then hybrid, we are grateful to have had even a few months of in-person learning. We celebrate every modified event that can happen as it gives us some sense of normal, allowing us to celebrate in a new way these milestones.
As someone who does not enjoy change, I grieve deeply as I recognize all these lasts. Even more than my children, I grow attached to my children’s schools, especially elementary school. I have spent so many hours as a parent volunteer; over the years, teachers have become friends, and friendships with other moms have grown. My children move on with anticipation of the exciting new things to come while I recognize the end of this particular season.
I have realized that it is important to grieve the loss brought about by change; I have also learned that seasons of lasts create necessary space and provide natural rhythms of reflection.
The ending of seasons provides us natural rhythms
that keep us from remaining stagnant.
When it comes to the end of a school year, we are blessed to have a few months of summer before transitioning into a new season, a season that will mark firsts. At our house, we will spend the month of May recognizing all the moments and last events. We will then pause to enjoy the summer as a season of rest and renewal, a season of anticipation and preparation for the firsts that will arrive in August. The first day in middle school, the first day of high school, the first day of not having a set teaching schedule.
