Happy tears, sort of a weird thing. Today was the first day I didn’t teach, but because I had the day off of work, I helped at school (to give the new teacher all my records and get her up to date with the class and what they are studying), except I left for a few minutes to take my sick daughter to her aunt’s house. It was a hard day, to say the least. I cried both happy and sad tears today. Sad because I wanted to be teaching the students and be in the room with them during their class time, but that wouldn’t be fair to the new teacher. My oldest daughter’s class is across the hall from the two classes that had my students (I guess ex-students, now). So when school let out and the children came out, all my students saw me waiting for my daughter. Can I just say how great 2nd Graders are? They all said they missed me and wished I would come back and teach them and gave me hugs and told me they loved me (they thought I didn’t want to teach them any more). I explained if I could I would, and I would still be their sub if possible. I also explained that they should be kind to their new teacher and be good for her. They said they would but that they liked me better as a teacher; very sweet of them, but at that point I fell apart crying. I have done that way too much lately (including now). I told them whenever they see me in the halls they are welcome to say hi and give hugs. Even if I am not their teacher in class, they are still dear children to me.
The second to last day I taught, the students asked if they could see some drawings I did when I was young. These images I took from ads in the early 80’s when I was between 14-15 (ok, so I was young and the pictures look like it, but I think they are good for the age I was). One was, I think, a Chicago ballet ad and the other two are Christian Dior ads. They are not original ideas, but they are modified from the originals as the originals (the Dior ads) are photos of models and mine are stipple drawings. The ballet ad was water colors, where mine is prisma color pencils.