As the days go by, I've been pausing at desks bending down and telling certain kids that I'm going to miss them.
Like, for instance, the cowboy - I still remember when I saw this little seventh grader with his great big belt buckle, freckles, and a cowboy hat, and boots. I had to stop at his desk and tell him that he'd be just the kid that would have been my husband's best friend in high school. He's the kid who made me a book mark out of duct tape. It may not seem much to you, but to me, it means the world.
I'm going to miss so many kids - and I guess that gets me down- I won't necessarily see their ending. Once I leave, will I know what becomes of them?
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