Yesterday, my oldest son Andrew and I arrived at my classroom to get it “summer-ready” as per request from our principal. It was both sad and surreal for me.

This year, the end of school is different. This year, the last day of school is going to be from our homes, not our classrooms.

There will be no “helping” from my students to take down my decorations and move my tables and chairs. There will be no Kahoot! trivia games played in my room. No stacking of cup towers (an activity my students adored). No messages on all of my whiteboards that I cherish (and take pictures of) before erasing them.

It was quiet. No teachers in the hallways. No secretaries in their office to help assist with the end of the year requests. Just quiet. It’s not something that a school should sound like this time of year.

And yet, it was just as special as all of the other times I prepared a room for the summer.

18 years ago I was a brand new mother carrying my brand new son to my library classroom to get it ready for the school year. It was an all-day event stopping for feedings, diaper changes, and settling him down to sleep so I could get something done.

Yesterday, this same boy was excited to come and help me (I think mostly because he was itching to drive and get out of the house). It was a time that was precious to me. It came full circle for me. It was a perfect time for just the two of us to be together. It was as if God was there (I am literally crying as I type this) to put a period at the end of our story as classroom mother and student son.

Luckily this time it only took us 90 minutes to get my room “summer-ready”. But each minute, each moment of that day, will be with me for eternity.