Drop the Mic

We all ate the same doughnuts.  Well, except for the pop tart eater ;-)

No honking buses.

No goodbye tears or hundreds of hugs.

No yearbooks to sign or check out lists to complete.

And yet we still went and 

Droped. the. mic.

It clearly hasn't hit me.

I'm still up late blogging.

But tomorrow I won't feel like I have to.

Or will I?

Early this morning I delivered little baggies of doughnuts to my dedicated "Pastries and Prose" fourth graders. I wanted us all to have "pastries" for our last meeting. This "before" school club never missed a single meeting because of quarantine.  We read picture books, short stories (Guys Read), and the whole Sluggers 1 by Loren Long and Phil Binder.  I left them today with I Wish You More by Amy Krouse Rosenthal and Tom Lichtenheld and Be You by Peter H. Reynolds.  I love that Be You.  I just bought a copy for my daughter for her graduation and two more copies.

It was fun driving around as the sun was rising. Some parts of our district are quite rural.  After 21 years of living here, you'd think it would feel familiar and yet I felt lost. You can take the girl out of Queens but never the Queens out of the girl. Andrew knows what I'm talking about. 

Speaking of Andrew, tomorrow will be his last daily briefing.  Teachers are not the only ones dropping the mic, I guess.  What will come of the summer? The fall?  I signed up to be a part of the reopening Task Force to try to be on the forefront of this reimagined future.

So this is it.

69 blog posts.

Over 50 books and other treats given away at book birthdays and other events.

A marathon of miles logged every week.

Dozens of unforgettable kid connections.

A serious reflection is deserved.

Maybe next week when I have the energy to pick the mic back up.

Until we leap again...

What's up with the mailbox?  When I opened it up to put in the doughnuts I found a card with my name on it stuck to the inside.  I lost it. But I still had more treats to deliver. So I pulled myself together, turned the car around and there he was, the kid that regularly, week after week, log into meet after meet, day after day.

Yep, I'll miss him...

See you in fifth grade, my friend. Sniffle. Sniffle.