Today is the first of my summer vacation.
The school year ended last Thursday, but after dismissing my students at the end of the day, I drove for two hours straight to Logan Airport, where I took off for Arizona, where I was speaking on Friday morning.
Then, I returned to the airport and flew home, landing in Boston at 2:00 AM on Saturday.
I was in bed by 4:30 AM and up again at 7:30 AM, so today is the first day that feels like a vacation for me.
Despite that, I find myself thinking about my students. Partly, it’s because of the thank you notes and letters that I will be writing to them over the next week, but mostly, it’s because our family will never be together again.
I love summer vacation, but it comes at a great price—people who know me almost as well as anyone else are no longer in my life.
In addition to the last day of school being incredibly hard, it’s also often hilarious.
This year was no exception.
A few memorable moments:
Saying goodbye to a student in the company of his parents, one student said to me, “When you’re dead, Mr. Dicks, I’ll still be thinking of you.”
“Who says I’m dying first?” I asked. “I’m indestructible.”
“Well, then,” he said with a smile. “I’ll see you in hell, Mr. Dicks.”
“No,” I said. “I’ll see you in hell.”
His mother, watching this back and forth unfold, said, “You two have the strangest relationship.”
I also received a couple of amusing emails on the last day of school from a student. Two particularly funny:
_______________________________
Dear Mr. Dicks,
Dear Mr. Dicks,
Thank you for preparing us for middle school so well. We didn’t make it easy, but that was because we love you and enjoy watching you suffer, too.
You taught us well.
_______________________________
You can see why it’s so hard to say goodbye.
