Last eight hours

No, there were no tears. My eyes were slightly moist at some point during the day but no, I did not cry. But that does not mean I was not sad or affected.

I felt so melancholic leaving my classroom this morning. It was a room I laughed, fumed and cried in. And at 1040, it would be the last time I pushed in the chairs, turned off the lights and locked the door.

Mr Chew invited me out for lunch over the holidays. The bosses left me nice cards and gifts. It was very nice of them to do so. I’m thankful they were so supportive of my decision, and that made me even more guilty for leaving the department despite all the opportunities they’d given me and all that they had done for me. Later, I hugged a few people goodbye and cleaned up my desk.

In the afternoon, I had a last meeting with the Journaling Club students. Leaving them was hard because I started with nothing. No students at all. And nobody to tell me what to do. And we now have over 20 members and a Chairman, a wonderful and charismatic girl who recently suggested to me we should start a committee, so “we can be a real Club”.

It’s so hard for me to let go because I watched the Club and these kids blossom over time. We were just starting to bond together and propel forward. I worry what the next teacher would be like. Would h/she be committed to the kids? Would s/he inspire and motivate them? Would s/he continue to develop and grow the Club or would s/he let it all fall into pieces?

For a few seconds, I thought of being as noble as LouAnne Johnson in Dangerous Minds or Erin Gruwell in Freedom Writers to put aside personal reasons and stay in school, just for these kids. But no, I was far from being so passionate.

I thought it would be easy but no, this was the first job I had difficulty leaving. The people, students and staff alike – I’d really truly miss.

Explore posts in the same categories: Drama, Life, School