A quiet tension fills the room
on this last day of school.

I expected exuberance and rowdiness,
but that came yesterday
when there was still one day to go.

Today the children are disturbingly subdued.
I am embarrassed at my own emotions;
I cannot look at the children directly.

The room is so blank. Our desks are cleaned out.
The last traces of the party have been swept away.
The charts and posters are down for the summer.

So now we sit quietly,
too wrought even for songs and games,
and we wait for the bus to come.

I expect to see these children again, of course,
but it won't be the same.
They know it,
and I know it.

They will come around to see me,
jealous of the new class,
and I will look at a room of little strangers
and miss the familiar faces.

In time the strangers will become friends,
But every class is different and special;
no new group of children will ever take the place
of the one leaving me today!