goodbye

"but whyyyy are you leaving, rachel?" they clung to my arms and waist. Goodbyes bring out sentimentality, and the children at both schools shed their disinterest in me that at first made me so distraught, but with which I'd grown comfortable. I have learned to accept that good teaching is a confrontation of my ego: when students are most engaged they are not smiling up at me to thank me. Sometimes, being a good teacher means not being needed, means being ignored.

But when I am leaving, I am no longer in the background of their child-centered life. Now it felt greedy to say: I am leaving now, I will no longer make this safe container. our classroom, our school. Now you must think about me as a person, not a quiet force, because I am going but your container remains.

I looked them in their eyes and cling their little bodies, frecked round faces, rosy cheeks, stretchy velor dresses, tight ponytails:
If I were just deciding whether or not to be your teacher, of course I would stay. But when I look at my whole life, all of the different options that are in both places right now, it feels right for me not to be here. I am excited to go, and I know that there are lots of people who will care for you here.

At one school this felt more true than the other, especially after the rudest girl in my class said, after I scolded her for maybe the 10th time that hour, "now don't you ruin your nice streak before you go!" ohh, that attitude in her that every teacher tries to break down. If I was the nice teacher, how are the others? She was the student that taught me to find it in myself to be authoritative and firm.

Another said "will our next art teacher be colorful, rachel?" and my heart cracks open. Just weeks earlier they were saying "why do you dress like that?" and I assumed I was being judged, 8 year olds thinking I'm uncool. Their sadness at me leaving restored my confidence that teaching is something that I am good at, and for my last few days I relished every moment like I wish I had all year. The timing made me ache so hard.