Another school year is almost over. You can feel it in the air. The final stretch, the end of the line. Private schools let out later this week, while the public schools hang in there until the end of June. The joke around here is this: the more money you pay for school, the fewer days you spend there.

The kids look ready for the break. The big crowd of high school kids
who hang out across the street from the Mojo just keeps getting bigger.
And wilder. Last week my daughter and I saw one of the boys scale the
PS 321 building attempting to retrieve a frisbee stuck on the second
story roof. Fortunately, he did NOT get killed.

Graduation is just weeks away for the 8th graders at MS 51 and
schoolwork is definitely far from their thoughts. Footloose and fancy
free, high school spreads out before them, the world their oyster. And
yes, there’s been some misbehaving. They are spreading their wings,
experimenting with their own independence, giving their parents a good
scare.

Even the second graders know that the end of school is
in sight. This is the fun time of year: class trips, picnics, field
days, bird walks. My daughter’s class is embarking on a ambitious
photography study designed by her teacher: they’ll be learning how
photographers compose photographs. The children will have the
opportunity to try out many of the techniques photographers use – using
their own disposible cameras.

My daughter has gotten very attached to her beautiful young teacher
("I love her hair," she said the other day) and there will be tears at
the end of the term. It is always hard to adjust to someone new, and
much fear at the prospect.

Who will next year’s teacher be creates anxiety for both parent and
child. On the last day of school, parents find out which classroom
their child will be in come September. The kids run around: "Are you in
318? Are you in 318?" in a desperate attempt to find out who they’ll be
with next year; to get their bearings. This can be joyful as in: "I’m
with all my friends!" or dispiriting as in:  "I’m with no-one I know,
NO-ONE."

Sobbing can and will ensue.

The parents, on the other hand, are desperately interested in which
teacher their child has next year. They are all too aware of who’s
"good" and who’s "not as good." So they have to decipher the code: this
classroom means this teacher, that classroom means that teacher. Why
the school can’t just come out and tell you who your new teacher will
be feels downright silly. However, there’s always a parent with the
coveted  list that shows class number and teacher.

Invariably, I cry on my children’s last day of school. It’s when the
teacher walks out of the building with his or her class for the very
last time: that’s the moment that gets me. Every time.

The look of pride, imminent
loss, relief, and sadness on a teacher’s face.  The look of sheer panic, pain, and excitement on a child’s face as she hugs her teacher good bye.

The last busy days of June are here: parties, events, graduations, trips, good byes. So much to do, so little time.

And then we start all over again next year.