Maybe they will.
I won't be missing the 6am wake-up call from the school secretary: "Can you do gym today?"
I won't be obsessing over printing my name on the whiteboard in blue erasable marker, after six or seven attempts to write in the neat practiced cursive of the classroom teacher; I won't be sharpening any more pencils, or pointing to my own eyes stupidly while reciting, "One, two three, look at me," only to be corrected by a 7-year old.
I won't be wondering if it is okay to kick a soccer ball innumerable times against the wall during math to practice counting; I won't be ducking the hand-flung candy on Valentine's day. I won't be having to determine which twin truly does belong in my classroom.
I won't have to send anyone else to the principal, only to be told by a circle of somber middle school students that this was the offender's last chance.
I won't have to stand outside on the playground ankle deep in snow, beeper in hand, feigning authority.
I won't be baffled by classroom directives having to do with something called Elmo.
But, I will miss the conversations of second-graders.
"My mom went to Yale."
"What's Yale?"
"One of the best schools in Vermont."
"Well, it sounds like jail, so it can't be that good."
Pause.
"I wish I was graduating from college right now."
"Why? I like being little."
I'll miss sentence practice: My mom stores melk in the panther.
I won't be fending off the demands of one particularly challenging little lady during reading.
"I only get to read the title of the story?"
Me: "Yes, that way everyone gets a turn to read."
"How come I only get to read the title?"
Me: "If there's time, maybe you'll be able to read again."
Little girl: "But, I only got to read the TITLE!"
I will remember one sparkling spring day when I (once again) had recess duty. Two small girls grabbed my hands and dragged me to a far corner of the playing field to inspect a spider web.
"The spider is not at home now," Claire said. Wearing a yellow dress and pink crocs, she squatted close to the crystalline web.
"Where do you think he is?" I asked.
Claire shrugged. "I think he is on a journey."
"Look, the dew is like diamonds!" Rosie exclaimed. "Like my birthstone. Diamonds are extremely rare, you know."
"You are the horse, and I am the master," shouted Violet. Danny, galloping by, had a green plastic jump rope stretched across his chest. He whinnied and pawed the grass.
"I order you to pull the reigns!" Violet said.
Then, Kevin and Rachel and Carson and Moriarty raced up to us. Kevin's small hand was closed around something. He opened it to reveal a tiny red salamander.
"Moisten your hands!" Carson urged. "There's poison on them and it can kill the salamander!"
"No," Rachel interrupted. "The salamander has poison on its skin. You need to wash your hands after you touch it."
"Why don't you carry the salamander over there and place him gently on the other side of the fence," I suggested. "Then he won't get hurt."
"Or get tramped on," Moriarty added, giving a little jump.
"Or get tramped on," I repeated.
At the end of this particular day, Skye approached me shyly as the other second graders were lining up for music class.
"Can you make an announcement?" she whispered.
"Sure, " I said. "What is the announcement?"
"Can you make an announcement that we all be nice to the music teacher, because he isn't going to be here much longer."
When the bell rang, I watched them trail off down the hall, back packs dragging, minding each other's business, their comments punctuated with, "No, he did not!" and "Yes, he did too!"
Maybe I'll miss them just a bit, too.
Recently, I was jogging around the track at the park in town, when a small boy wearing his baseball uniform, mitt in hand, waved as he raced toward the diamond.
"Hi, Mrs. Palmer!" he yelled. "It's me, Joey!"
"Hi, Joey!" I called, somewhat thrilled to be recognized.
Later, I was walking out of the bank and nearly collided with a gaggle of scruffy middle schoolers.
"Hey," one of them said, tossing his sweaty bangs, "Didn't you used to, like, sub, or something?"
"I did," I replied.
"You were kind of dumb," he said.
