I just read the card that my class gave me today, on my last day as their student-teacher.
Oh the front:
To Misis Nicole
Inside:
Will we miss you!
As most of you know, I don't cry about important things, or things that actually make me sad in a great sense; only about little things that in their smallness speak volumes. So I was looking at the names written inside the card, because each student signed it. And right at the bottom, there are 3 little r's and a bunch of half-moon squiggles. To anyone else, they probably look like kindergarten doodles. But that's how the kids at the special ed table (who are really just developmentally delayed) sign their names. Anyone who didn't know these kids wouldn't know that Johnny only seems to write r's for his name and that Shara isn't able to draw diagonal lines yet, so can only make half-moons. I know that because every morning when we all do activity sheets, I go to their table and write their names on their papers with highlighter so that they can copy it. They both work so hard, trying to do it. Sarah's parents might not even understand her disability yet, which is serious and will impact her entire life, because they only speak Cambodian. Johnny's parents, though, came to parent-teacher night and talked about how hard they work with him, to try to get him to speak. He will be perfectly normal eventually, but now he is delayed by the chaos of his life. But he is such a sweet little boy. Whenever he sees something he likes or understands well, he stands up during calendar time and points, with a big cheesy smile on his face. Last week he pointed at chicken, because there are chickens in his family's apartment. And yes, he can never stand still in line, or sit criss-cross applesauce, but I can tell that none of his misbehavior is deviant: he's just too happy to keep still.

So anyway, thinking through all of that helped me to realize why I only cried about my barking dog when I left Washington University. It was suddenly clear, in that moment, that everything that I cared about in St. Louis (which were so many unrelated things) made sense to me in the idea that I had wanted to give my remote-controlled dog to Schroedter because he had loved it so much but I had forgotten and by then it was too late. I felt that way about everything. That's wistful, but it's true.

So I'm really excited to go back to the school on Friday, for the holiday party. We're supposedly making crafts and singing songs... It's always a little bit funny (and I mean this in a nice way) to watch a bunch of non-English-speaking kids try to sing Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. They have absolutely no idea what they're saying! I'll get to say goodbye to all of them again and meet their parents (I'm crossing my fingers that they'll all come). Stephanie cried today when I left, because she did understand that it was my last day, but I couldn't remember how to say "I'm going to see you on Friday" in Spanish, so I don't know if she knew that. The best part of the whole thing will be that I'm bringing my grandparents too! My "funny"-grandparents and a bunch of people who don't speak English. It's going to be pretty hilarious, if I do say so myself.