21 May 2010
What was really surprising was the the guys seemed to show true emotion. As I sat looking out the window on the bus, there were the three troublemaker boys of my class. They stood awkwardly next to each other, laughing and smiling genuinely for the first time. And then one of them gave another a one-armed man-hug and waved goodbye.
A girl hugged her boyfriend for a long time, their fingers digging in each o
thers backs. She kept her face straight, with a small, grim smile on her face. Her boyfriend smiled back and then sauntered away. As soon as she got on the bus, tears began to roll off her eyes and she couldn't stop crying.
All over the bus and car and walker spots across the front of Simpson Middle School were students giving each other long hugs, and unnecessarily crying out "I Miss You!".
It was so much harder on the 8th graders, who were moving on to separate high school. They lingered outside as long as they could, saying goodbye and shedding endless tears.
The teachers, all of them, not just the ones on bus duty, were waiting outside, saying farewell to their students too.
And then they departed. One by one the buses filed out the parking lot. The teachers lined up against the school, waving to each bus. Cars drove away with sad children in them, and people walked home together on that last day.
All the while I sat in my lonely seat on the bus, feeling heartless. I don't think I'll miss them, my classmates. It didn't really feel like the last day of school. I know that my friends are going to be gone for 2 months, but really we were all going to come back.
On the way home, I listened to Storms in Africa Part 2, and the lyrics began to have a double meaning. I said goodbye to my life in 7th grade, to my classes, to my friends, to my daily routine, to my teachers.
One teacher, Mr. Fuller, really touched me this year. His parents and brother all died of cancer, and his wife died too. He lives all alone with his dog, and to him, his students are his children, since he has none. All year long, he loved us, and forgave us, and never punished us. But the teens in our grade didn't repay the awesome favor, instead they yelled and shouted in class, wouldn't listen to Mr. Fuller. The argued back and were horribly disrespectful. I wrote him a card the day before, a card telling him that he was great.
I remember on the first day of school, my friend and I laughed at his southern accent, but now I realize that it hardly seemed recognizable. He resembles a gray-haired, jolly, bunny rabbit, a big stuffed bunny rabbit with a large heart.
He gave an end-of-the-year speech. It was sappy and lovey-dovey, but my friend Didem and I loved it so much. We were crying in the audience. He said quote "I learned that no matter how much you love a person, they may not love you back the way you love them". Seriously, that moment I felt horrible, like a cruel mean person.
And now I'm writing a story. A story of a girl finding herself and finding love after pain, and I'm dedicating that story to this wonderful teacher, Mr. Fuller.
So this year was amazing. My only 7th grade year with the best people, the best teacher, and the best staff. Thanks so much!!
Oh yeah, and I looked forward to blogging every day after school, meeting and talking with all my online friends. You guys are amazing too!