There’s an excitement that comes with the beginning of the school year, even for principals. It’s almost a nervous anticipation (wondering if everything got done and if everything will go even close to semi right) coupled with eager anticipation for the students to return.
I do the job I do and keep at it year after year because of those kiddos. I absolutely adore my students. Every single one. They are all differently gifted and uniquely unique, but there is something about each of them that draws me in. I want to know their stories. I want to share in their triumphs. I want to cry with them in their sorrows.
And then there’s that dreaded text message, that of course always comes the evening before or the week before or some amount of time before that is never quite enough time to make it okay. “So and so won’t be returning. They’ll be going to such and such a city/place instead.”
And I’m left heartbroken. No chance of saying goodbye. No closure. No final conversation.
I’m not sure if it’s worse for me because I feel it all so deeply or for them because the processing is never going to happen. The victories that aren’t going to be celebrated as we reflect on their seasons here and the sorrows and failures that won’t be acknowledged.
I read the other day that one of the saddest parts of TCK life are the goodbyes that happen so gradually that you don’t even realize it. The friendships that fizzle and no longer matter but that used to be a high point in a day.
For this TCK principals heart, one of the hardest parts of the job is not being able to walk alongside these amazing kiddos as they go through the leaving process. Not being able to give that last high five or have that last good chat.
School starts tomorrow and I’m excited. But I might just cry a little for the ones that won’t be there, too.
Oh life.
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