Today was the last day of school. It always amazes me how much time bends on days like this. The morning recess seemed to go on for hours, and no amount of urging could move the clock ahead. At last, when it was time to pass out the report cards, I made a little speech about how I would always be their teacher, to which Robert asked, "You mean you're going to teach fifth grade next year?"
No, Robert. The other fourth graders seem to have either ascertained my subtle meaning, or were clever enough not to say anything. I meant that I will always have an interest in their education because I have been a part of it. Robert's reply: "Huh?" Then I proceeded to pass out the report cards along with a kaleidoscope - a little reminder of one of our more troublesome vocabulary words. Robert complained bitterly that his did not work, and before I had even finished handing out all the prizes, he had broken his open and spilled the colorful contents all over his desk. "See? It doesn't work!"
One hundred and eighty days. Robert spent all but four of those days living on the edge of being tossed out of the room for disruptive, insensitive, obnoxious or rude behavior. Three of those days of exception were absences, and there was one day that he stayed in his seat, focused on his work, avoided conflict with his classmates, and managed himself without nearly constant reminders. I made a call home on that day too - making a point to Robert's mother that he had shown self-control. It was a breakthrough. That was back in January. We have all been waiting for a repeat performance.
Today, the wait is over. Adios, Robert and the class of 2007.
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