the end of student teaching.

I have to apologize up front. This might be the cheesiest post I'll ever write.

Last Thursday was my last day of student teaching.

I had an awesome lesson planned out. One I thought would let me go out with a BANG! We'd be reading a poem entitled "Identity" and then write a poem of our own, using an extended metaphor for ourselves. I thought it was super cool, and was pretty excited.

My last day arrived, and the kids trickling in before the first bell rang were acting mighty suspicious. One of the more quiet ones crept into the room, saw me sitting there, and immediately crept back out.

Needless to say, something was UP.

It turns out the kids had planned a lovely little party to celebrate our time together and push me out into the real world with fond memories of them. They all brought food, two students brought me flowers (tulips and roses!) and one student even bought me a cake and decorated it with the words: "Good luck Ms. Salinas!"

It was all incredibly sweet.

We were partying away, munching down, and having an all around good time. The only thing that could spoil such a party was the end of the period. We all gathered around for a group picture of the whole class. While standing with the students surrounding me, they began to notice how small I am for the first time. Most of them are at least a half foot taller than me. They grinned and forced me to the front of the group.

MT, a particularly outspoken student, looked at me and said, "Miss! You're so small! You're Fun Size."

After the group picture, the students presented me with a gift they had all chipped in to buy me. PL whipped out her camera and began snapping pictures.

"I better not see any of those on Facebook!" I warned her, but laughed just the same.

The gift was a James Avery bookmark. It has a small, neat engraving on one side. My cooperating teacher held her iPhone up for a picture, and asked me to read what it said to the class.

I couldn't even make it through the phrase without choking up. A tear squeezed itself out of one of my eyes, and one of the kids shouted, "Group hug!" Next thing I knew, the bell was ringing, and students were hugging me one by one on their way out the door.

My CT smiled at me. "I knew you wouldn't get through today without crying." She laughed and began picking up empty plastic cups from around the room.

I smiled too. It was the damn bookmark that had done it.

I placed it back in its small, coral box and proceeded to assist in cleaning the classroom.

The bookmark read: "I touch the future. I teach."