Cue sound.
Today was our first campus-wide spring choral concert practice. And, surprisingly, it sounded pretty good. (And I say surprisingly because, let's face it, usually the first rehearsals of anything leave much to be desired...)
The show progresses chronologically through the grades, with 8th grade going right before the final group number. Now, the 8th grade number is pretty fun, as they sing along to the tune of "Let It Go," but with a twist of lyrics, belting instead, "Let us go!" (Someone - I'm not sure who - rewrote the words.)
Now, I can't honestly say that there has been any point this year - except maybe right in the Mass for Confirmation itself - where I felt that 8th grade was my favorite class. And they still aren't, but as they sang those words and I looked upon them as a whole group, I couldn't help but feel a wave of sadness. Yes, sadness - even when I was ready just hours earlier to scream in frustration while attempting to break open the Book of Revelation with them - and I realized that in spending this past school year with them studying important topics about our faith and trying to help them adjust to the everyday challenges of growing up, I am not quite ready to let them go.
Damned if I understand the reasons - and I know if I tell my colleagues about my sentiments, they may think I'm crazy (or secretly feel the same way, who knows). But I'll tell you one thing - when you spend enough time around your students, they become a part of you: a puzzle piece nicely nestled in and written on your heart.
(I'm sure it pales in comparison to the feelings parents have, but on a basic level, I bet it's pretty similar.)
Ups and downs, we've had them in abundance (oftentimes within the extent of a class period), but we made it. I don't think highly of everything they do, but I have faith in them, and I wish them the very best.
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