Clap out

There is a tradition at my school -- the outgoing 4th graders and any retiring teachers get clapped out by the whole school. Children line a cordoned off area and as the eldest walk through, we sing our school song and clap. The song is never in unison, and the clapping has no rhythmic beat, but it is pure love. More often than not, the majority of people cry.

My good friends are leaving this year. Two to retirement. And one, a sort of sister friend, is moving to another state. And the rest -- my 75 little friends are moving on to fifth grade. Sure, they will stop by. They will tell me about their grades and their activities. We will sling each other's arms around one another in a familiar hug. But it is never the same as it is when they are with us, day after day. I know, I feel, just an inkling of what parents must feel when they experience the transitions in their children's lives. But for me, childless, every year I fall a little bit in love. And then I have to release my young friends into the world. There is no greater satisfaction in the world, and there is nothing that makes me more teary. Love and release. Twenty-three years of love and release. I clap you out Cal, and Najee, and Symoan, and Shaniya, and Enna and Ryan...