Saturday, 18 June 2016
The end-of-school day and a million roses.
The yearly tradition is to sing and hug goodbye in front of a castle near our school. It was sunny and promising, as usual. (Simon, a teacher, was smuggling candy to the other teachers and said "Nobody puts baby in the corner. It is a 'Dirty Dancing' reference" when I for a moment stood behind him instead of next to him discussing teacher stuff.)
My age was confirmed undecided. When I asked a parent who she was the mother of (among the 15- and 16 years old in the room, some aka my former pupils), she replied by naming her offspring and went on asking who in the room I was mum to. An hour later, when I stood next to teenagers, a different mother mistook me for a teenager.
I got flowers. People got flowers.
I got my students homework over summer: bingo with summerish stuff to do.
This teacher is a big favourite. Here, he carried so many gifts from his students, that he dropped two. I offered to help.
And this was me.