Being a part of it.

I find it funny to be winding down at the end of another school year.
Being the observor this time around.
Having watched the bookbags go from crisp and new to ink splattered and dog-eared.
Shoes that were shiny are now scuffed and falling apart.

For these children, I muse, school is their world, especially the borders.
They are governed by the rhythm of the days. The timetable, the clock,the clanging of the bell.
They move in and out with the ebb and flow of lessons arriving and ending.

There are things in that rhythm that stand out. The red letter days.
Days set apart from the normal routine; plays, concerts, trips.
The things they remember.
The things they will look back on and say "Oh rememeber when we did that."
The things that highlight that particular year.

I am for most of them, passing through. An important face, a special hug, a secret whisper for that one year.
I feel so lucky to have watched the rhythm of school life from beginning to end.
Watched the year turn on its axis.
For those months to have been a part of it.

To have shared with them those ordinary days and rejoyced in the special ones.