If it wasn't obvious from the fact that I decided to stay with my same students for a second year, they have a special place in my heart.  From Francis, the first student I lost (to a life in the United States with his brother, father, and new step mother December 2009), to Juan and Maria Jose who did not return to my class this school year, to Destiny and Sofia who were knew to my class this school year, and the other 16 (17 if you count the one I only get for science this year, but who was in my class full-time last year), I love my kids.

I have students who work hard and do well.  Students who work hard and do not do well.  Students who do not work hard and do well.  I even have students who do not work hard and do not do well.  I have students who can't stop talking, students that intentionally push my buttons, and students who would do anything to please me. 

Even the ones who do everything they can to get under my skin, I know that they are just a product of their environment.  It's amazing to me, actually, how clearly most children come out of their circumstances as they are.  Supportive parents= well rounded child, non-supportive parents= child in desperate need of attention.  Of course, it's not always so cut and dry, but it is the standard way.

I have one student in particular, who has the ability to pull on my heart strings.  She is very intelligent, but talks all through class and doesn't study or do her homework.  She's sweet as can be and would rather just chat.  Her humor and honesty have worked their way into me.

This past week, she's been talking to me a lot about how she doesn't want me to go, but how she understands.  I told her that I would try to come back to visit in the next couple of years, and she asked me if I could come back in a few years to teach them again.  She gets to me.

I have another student who's been leaving me notes on my desk asking me not to leave.  The parents of my students and my Spanish teacher like to remind me that I don't have to go.

This coming weekend is Emily and Tiffany's birthday, two weeks later is my birthday, then is the weekend after school ends, and then I leave.  It will be a beautiful time, but I often find myself looking at it and wishing I could stretch it out.  I like my life here.

I'm writing each one of my students a personal letter about what a pleasure it has been to teach them and their strengths.  What I hope for them.  I can only do so many at a time because they make me sad too.

I suppose it's like coming to the end of a beautiful relationship.  A very difficult break up.  We both understand each other, but after all of our time together it won't work.  It's still heart breaking.