I Didn’t Know It Was Our Last Class

I didn’t know our last day was our last day.
I didn’t know that I should have called on each of you one last time,
told you how smart you were,
and let you share that story you wrote about the girl who knew all the constellations.

I wish I had better prepared the last lesson and used less technology-
I wish I let each of you tell me your biggest fear,
and gave you a little extra silent reading time.

I wish I sent you to your homeschool with at least one of my favorite books to read,
I wish I told you to take your journals from the bin in the corner of the room.
“You’ll be needing this,” I wish I said.

I wish we took one more group picture, laid out my brick wallpaper and read bad poetry,
I wish I let the one who talks so much (you know the one) say even more on that last day.

But I didn’t know that it was the last,
I thought it odd to stand with my hand up for high fives as a goodbye, or a hug as you left the room.

I didn’t know that I should have played more music, made more jokes, gotten more smiles out of you before this.

I’m so sorry I didn’t know.

I can’t feel the loss you feel.
In my adult shoes, this lands differently.
A big chunk of your high school time has been taken from you.
And I’m just a small part of that chunk.

I just wish you knew that in our last class, you did everything right.
You had all the right answers and made the most astute connections,
and every single sentence of your essay-
was perfect.

Because our class, this class I see through a screen, or the last class we had in my room,
was not about grades or books or essays or discussions or quizzes or tests.

It’s about you.
Your well being, your growth, your ability to challenge yourself.

It was *always* about you.