Goodbye, Whippersnappers

Yesterday was my last day of teaching. In many ways, it was much the saddest job parting ever, because unlike adults you can't really expect nine-year-olds to keep in touch, and often they just scamper away without even allowing you to rhapsodize about how much you like them. Of course, adults are often lying when they say they'll stay in touch, and even when they say how much they like you, but at least it is a nice social/sentimental ritual. For my adult colleagues, a couple of whom I genuinely expect to stay friends with because they are so awesome, I got a card. I've recently discovered this insane line of nonsensical cards made out of cut-n-paste natural paper. They are blank inside and the pictures on the fronts are to me inexplicable. The one I got for the teaching staff had a chicken (fully grown) busting out of a brown egg while wearing a red church hat and a bow-tie, under a pink and white bow. Hilarious and random, I thought. As I was writing out the card, though, I showed it to the kids and said, "This is for the other teachers, isn't it bizarre? What do you suppose it means?" To which the whole class responded, "Rebecca, that's an Easter card!" You could practically hear the implied you idiot. This is pretty much how my whole teaching career has gone. When I handed the card to Ellen, I pointed out that I now knew it was aseasonal and said I was still a little mystified. She opened the card and pointed out that the loops of the topmost bow were actually disembodied bunny ears, which is not only weird but creepy, when you think about it.

I'm really gonna miss that place.

I'm a punk rock prom queen
RR