It’s time to start marking all the “last time” moments that will come in the next six days. This has always been an important organizing principle for me, in allkinds of tasks. There’s a satisfying solidness to knowing that it’s your last lap during a run or your last essay to grade in a slowly diminishing pile.
A series of trivial (but personally meaningful) “lasts” await me throughout the week. Last bowl of Tasteeo’s, unless I get nostalgic and seek out the off-brand cereal in the United States. Last Pilsener, an undistinguished beer that I can’t imagine missing, unless of course I see it in some high-end U.S liquor store and feel two years of compressed memories flood my senses and cloud my objectivity regarding its non-flavor. Last time that I will be picked up by a little yellow school bus for teachers and settle comfortably into my second row seat for the 25-minute ride to school. Last time that I will lug a five-gallon jug of water up our street, studiously avoiding the incredulous looks of my sidewalk companions.
Other substantial moments have already come and gone. I have, sadly, seen most of my students for the last time; at least until 2014 when I hope to return to see them graduate. Most of these goodbyes were scattered and anticlimactic, occurring hurriedly in the hallways at the end of their finals. Often, they were overwhelmed and distracted by the euphoria of having turned in their final 8th grade assignment. And, despite earlier illusions of grandeur, I never gave the full, “you all have meant a tremendous amount to me,” speech that I once imagined. I gave a half-version of it, but couldn’t manage to lose myself in it and express the magnitude of my fondness for them as a group. I have enjoyed these two years, yet as I prepare to leave it is only the students that I am certain I will miss.
Hasta Luego
