Twas the day after Uvalde.

I typically cry on the last day of school. I can usually hold it together until I get home, or at least until I’m alone in my classroom, but there are almost always at least a few tears shed before the sun goes down on day 180.

Last days are crazy. They’re usually filled with a million little things to do, last minute items to be sent home, celebrations and class parties, too much sugar, a half-packed classroom, and a teacher running on fumes. Then throw in the emotional impact of saying goodbye to 20-some little humans who you’ve gotten to know inside and out. We work hard all year long to create a little school family and then, boom … it’s over. It’s a lot, even in a “normal” year. And, to be honest, these past few years have been far from normal. Every teacher I know is feeling it. We’re tired, in every sense of the word.

This year’s last day tears started before school today. Truthfully, they began last night when I really let the news of the Texas school shooting sink in. I was sad and angry and scared. I still am.

I hardly slept at all last night. I laid awake in bed giving myself various versions of the same pep talk – one that would convince me to get up, face the evils of the world, and provide a special, fun, and safe day for my kindies today.

I cried on my way to school and then again in the parking lot when I got there. I was so eager to hug my students, but I was also nervous about the large crowd that would be gathering for our Kindy 500 parade. I was mad that today, which should be nothing but a fun, exciting, special day for the kids, would now also have an inevitable overarching somberness. And mostly, I was still reeling in heartbreak – for the lives lost, for grieving families, for a broken community.

But I pulled myself together with my well-rehearsed pep talk, said a little prayer, got out of my car, and got to work. I’m lucky that my students are too young to have heard the news or to know what was weighing on everyone else’s mind. That helped me hold it together today. I had a great last day with my sweet students, but underneath I was about a nano-second away from tears at any, and every, given moment.

I squeezed my kindergarten babies tight and fought off tears during dismissal. Then I finished my report cards, got in my car, and took the first deep breath I’d taken in 24 hours. I cried all the way home.

So why the long sob story? I guess it’s just kind of a PSA. Check on your teacher friends, y’all. We were already holding on by a thread, and now we’re definitely not ok. We’re tired. And sad. And scared. And angry. And the weight of it all is far too heavy to carry alone.

I have lots of friends who are parents. I can't even imagine what you are feeling. I'm sure you are hugging your babies a little extra tight today. Please give them an extra squeeze for me as well. And if you happen to see your child’s teacher or if you have a loved one who is a teacher, know that they could probably use a kind word and one of those extra hugs too.

Sending love to you all.

XO,

Karen