For weeks, my friends have been asking, “Are you feeling sad about the school year coming to an end?” My answer has been a resounding “No! I’m ready to kick off summer!” I daydreamed about lazy mornings in pajamas and banishing lunch boxes to the back of the cabinets—out of sight and out of mind (can we all agree that packing lunches is the worst?).
But then, this week unfolded, bursting with celebrations: robotics team parties, safety patrol gatherings, and the exclusive parent-student kickball game for fifth graders. I watched as you sprinted around the kickball field, dodging eager kids who aimed to tag you out with the ball. You laughed alongside them, even when you missed the base.
Last Friday was the grand fifth-grade party—cosmic bowling, a chorus of fifth-grade girls belting out Taylor Swift, and yes, a photo booth. I couldn’t help but chuckle when I saw you join your fellow teachers for some fun behind the photo booth curtain.
In the fall, it was my youngest who wanted me to hop into the booth with him, and I hesitated. This time around, I took the initiative. I asked my now-tall ten-year-old to pause his pizza and bowling to join me for a photo. No baby on my hip anymore; just a toddler, a reminder of how quickly things change. This year has emphasized just how fast time flies and how much my children evolve, often overnight. I’ve learned to seize those moments, whether it’s a spontaneous hug or jumping into a picture.
Recent events have hammered home the critical role you and all teachers play in our lives, far beyond tests and lesson plans. I’ve seen how teachers will put themselves in harm’s way to protect their students when danger strikes. I realized that during a crisis, when parents might be separated from their kids, you too share that worry for your own family while ensuring the safety of mine.
Thank you—though those words feel so inadequate. Thank you for sharing this year with my child, perhaps the last year I can truly call him a child. Your efforts to nurture his love for learning have been invaluable. The Friday dance parties, reading breaks, and thought-provoking current events assignments helped him engage with news articles in a new light. You’ve encouraged him to enter essay contests and pushed him to think beyond the standard curriculum. Thank you for maintaining high expectations while also showing him grace when needed. I especially appreciated the thoughtful email with a photo of him on a field trip, letting me know he was having a great day even when I was miles away.
Tomorrow, the little boy I once dropped off at preschool, tears streaming down my face as I sat in the parking lot, will graduate from elementary school. He may not be fully grown yet, but he’s on the right path. I sense that we are entering a new chapter, the autumn of his childhood, and my time with him is becoming more fleeting. This past year has been a delightful whirlwind filled with joy, books, and newfound independence—all shared with you. He might not know what awaits him in middle school, and honestly, I’m not sure either. But that’s okay; we’ll both be just fine, possibly overwhelmed at first, but ultimately okay.
So, thank you—for everything. Thank you for your humor, your endless patience, and the dedication you’ve shown to my child. Most importantly, thank you for loving him just as he is. That gift may not always be available, making it all the more precious. He was fortunate to be in your classroom, and I was equally lucky.
What I Actually Said to My Son’s Fifth-Grade Teacher at His Graduation
“Thank you, Ms. Johnson. Have an awesome summer!”