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Reflections on the last week, the last day of school:

We check out books to parents but not to kids for the summer. Retrieving those books checked out to kids is our least favorite activity.  Lauren and I started sending reminders to children with overdue books about ten days ago.  They get a verbal reminder, a printed reminder, a teacher reminder and then finally an email to a parent. The email offers to move the book to the parent account if the parent will just acknowledge it.  Many don't.

So imagine the drama as I go from classroom to classroom this morning, the last day of school:

• A 9 year old boy looks through his backpack, saying in consternation, "It was in here this morning.  I just don't know what happened to it. Maybe somebody took it."
• An 11 year old boy also frantically looks through his backpack, then confesses, "They're at my dad's house and I never get to go there anymore." I'm letting those go.
• A 10 year old boy says "I must never have checked out those Foxtrot comics because they're not in my house."
• An 8 year old girl says, "I never found those audiobooks. Here's $60." (Cash.)

My beloved colleague Peter saw me coming with the list and launched into the Darth Vader theme and soon the whole class was ominously chanting "Dun dun dun, dun ta-dun, dun ta-dun" as I approached.  Lauren and I keep reminding ourselves that we must achieve a Zen state on this rather than grinding our teeth; as I was told in library school, "If you don't lose books, you're not doing your job."

But here's what's fun: our last faculty meeting of the year.  When parents look for a good school for their children, a key factor remains mostly invisible: the collegiality of the faculty.  We actually like each other. We laugh at each other's stories, celebrate each other's triumphs, work together to help struggling kids and console one another about hard things. Our last meeting traditionally lets teachers share their highs, their lows and funny stories. I loved what I heard this year.

Brian talked about his joy in seeing a girl recover, over the course of the year, from a near-fatal accident last summer.  She made far more progress than anyone could ever have predicted, with huge teacher and parent support but mostly because of her own gritty determination.

Lina spoke of a boy who struggles with a serious medical condition who got through the year without having to use the emergency procedures we were all trained for. And what a sweet, funny asset he has been to the classroom.

Elisa told stories of the self-proclaimed "Nerd Herd," a group of 11-12 year olds who sit on the benches reciting the periodic table of the elements and who trooped down the street unself-conciously wearing Star Wars regalia for a screening. 

Missy talked about a little second grader who finally! finally! after heroic efforts by teachers and parents, developed reading fluency at the very end of the year.

And my favorite story was from Sarah, teacher of 3rd and 4th grade students.  She described an elaborate role-playing game that has evolved on the playground during recess, largely orchestrated by one of the cheeriest and agreeable little girls we know.  Max comes in from recess, sweaty and exasperated.

• Max:  "My wife is driving me crazy!'
• Teacher Sarah asks, "Oh, who is your wife?"
• Max: "Thomas."
• And, if you know Thomas and Max, you can imagine their marriage.

Sarah, who spent many of her childhood hours on that very playground before she became one of our cherished colleagues, is moving away. We are sad to lose her and her keen ear for kid tales.

I am signing off for the summer, back with more posts when school starts.  Meanwhile, two videos for your viewing pleasure:

A Rapping Librarian (thanks to my librarian colleague Anna for the link)




plus the last installment in the saga of those anxious and sweet library bunnies.
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