Last Lesson with 12H

A part of me always dreads the last lesson with a class. In some cases, I gladly welcome it, but today, I was anxious. I want to make it memorable as if to create acceptable closure and show them in my way that the experience has been marvelous. My “school leavers” or seniors have always had a great sense of humor. Some have rarely showed up for class and some have had maybe too much of juvenile perspective on things for their age, but more than half the time, they make me smile and laugh during lessons.

The whole weekend, I was creating and debating ideas for the last lesson. During last week's lesson, I had played them the infamous sunscreen song: “Everybody Must Wear Sunscreen” or something worded similarly to that. The song gives out great advice, especially to those who have their “whole lives ahead of them.” If you’ve got seniors and still have a lesson or two left, I recommend playing it for them. They requested lyrics and burned copies of it.

So today, I had to one up that. Yesterday, I spent the majority of the morning cutting out pictures from magazines and taping them onto paper. These were my “presents” to the graduating class. I told them that if I could get them all presents, these were what I would get them. Some were the jackpot, like a red Ferrari or I-Pod and others were just strange like a shell, a blender, or even an avocado. It’s difficult to find a variety of objects in women’s fashion magazines.

At the beginning of the lesson, I wrote the word ACCOMPLISHMENT on the board. Surprisingly they didn’t know what it meant. So I explained and told them that it was an accomplishment that they were graduating from high school. Therefore, I had presents for them. Next, they picked a “present” from my dm bag. I told them that it was not for them, but for someone else. Gergő, who chose a picture of a math book was relieved!

Then, they had to write their names on little slips of paper. I collected those and put ‘em in the dm bag. They all chose a name and I told them that they were to give their present to this person. But, they needed to write one compliment to this person on the back. I reminded them of some lyrics in the “Sunscreen Song”: Remember all the compliments you receive and forget the insults. They hadn’t understood “compliment” last week, so here was their chance to practice it. I had worried that they might think this activity was stupid, but to my surprise, they all broke out into gentle, sentimental smiles. This class, like most Hungarian senior classes, had been together for four straight years for every lesson. They knew each other well.

I watched them write for three minutes, thinking they’d be finished in another two. They weren’t. They continued to scribble furiously for an additional ten minutes. I told them to write one compliment and they ended up writing entire letters to each other.

Just to be sure, I looked over their shoulders. It was all in English…beautiful English… and my heart skipped a beat when I saw what they were writing to each other.

I didn’t ask them to share information out loud, because I wanted it to be solely for them.

The blurbs I did see included:

*** You used to be so shy and quiet at the beginning of high school and now you’re really a great person to talk to.

***You’re the strongest person in the class!

***I wish you to be very lucky in the future and I hope this math book will help you.

***I know that you will be a great lawyer.

When I told them to give their present to each other, they hugged and kissed each other on the cheek. As they read their letters, I saw genuine happiness in their smiles, and it sent a wave of emotion through me. I just stood at the front and watched them on their last day of real lessons, truly sad to be torn from each other in the “real world.”

I only taught this class once a week on Wednesdays. I didn’t know that I’d become this attached and want so much for them to succeed.

I’m going to their school leaving ceremony on Saturday, where I’m sure I’ll absolutely lose it.