The End of the School Year

When you bring out a camera, everyone gets so excited to have their picture taken, running up to you shouting “Take one of me! Over here!” and then posing model-esque and putting on their best serious face as you capture the moment.  It’s hilarious, and a little overwhelming, when you show them the photo on the camera review and they all grab for it and shout over each other, laughing when they see the picture.

This describes my last week of school.  I brought in my camera to take a last photo with each of my classes and they were so excited!  As we were all grouped together, my students nearly knocking me over as they pressed in around me for the picture, it suddenly hit me that this was it, the last day of school, my last day with these awesome students, my last day as a teacher in Mozambique.

All week, I had been feeling somewhat down, tired of my same routine: wake up 6am, work out, heat up water for my bucket bath, quick breakfast, head to school, repeat the same thing a million times to students who seemed to not remember much of anything I had taught all year, walk home in the ever increasing afternoon sun, lunch, maybe an afternoon meeting, then dinner, sleep, and repeat.  It was some of my first solid moments of thinking to myself, ok I’m ready to go.  Even the children running up to me from 50 yards away for their high five didn’t quite cheer me up all the way.

And then there was this huge Last as a snap back to reality.  There have already been a lot of Lasts lately, last science fair, last Peace Corps conference, last time with my other volunteer friends, but this was a big Last and one that I couldn’t suppress and shine on quite like the others. 

In talking with a student about my not returning next year, he took a moment to himself and then said, “Teacher, we are going to miss you a lot.  It was so good to meet you and get to know you and I don’t think there is anyone else like Professora Sara and I won’t ever meet anyone like you again.”  It was hard to hold back the tears. 

For whatever reason, the day turned in to a very emotional one, with a lot of discussions about my future, the future of the library, how we are going to communicate when I leave, all those things that I’m not quite ready to deal with just yet.  But will there ever be a right time to truly acknowledge that soon will be my last time leaving my little town?  I dare say it’s only going to keep getting harder.  And while I know it’s time for me to go, time to move on and begin the next phase of my life, and that I’m definitely ready to be home, I don’t think anyone is every truly ready to leave.  You leave your stuff behind, lots of stretched out and worn clothes, that bicycle I used that one time, but you take so much more with you.  Memories and experiences that have changed you in ways you can’t quite yet know.

And honestly, I’m a little terrified of returning home.  Afraid of the feelings of guilt at jumping back in to my first world lifestyle, perhaps feeling judgmental at the ignorance of people around me, not connecting with friends like I used to, fear of an unknown future and what’s next for me, and so much more.  One big lesson that I have learned here is that, with time, everything gets easier.  Some have described returning home as comparable to jumping on to a moving treadmill.  I anticipate all those feelings that come with any break or change in your usual routine as you begin something new in life.  Most importantly, it is always a comfort knowing I am lucky enough to have a place to go home to.

And so I am still taking in all the lasts as they occur here in my last few weeks, playing with those neighbor children or working with students a little longer than I normally would, hoping to solidify those memories a little bit more.

Some of my high-fiving buddies

Some of the school administrators and a few professors