Today I had my final five lessons at one of the primary schools. I distributed my too thin/somewhat burnt chocolate chip cookies of which some kind little fifth graders declared, "these are the best desserts in the whole world!" Bless their hearts. I spent most of Sunday afternoon baking while the sun shone sans clouds. I gave out the recipe and my e-mail address and then it was suddenly over.
I will never go back there to teach.
6C is Etelka's class. I went to Eger with them last week and they are the first bi-lingual class in the school. Their English is surprisingly good for their age, because they have their history and science lessons in English along with regular English classes. Etelka told me that many of the other teachers don't like them, because they are "too enthusiastic" about English. They presented me with a certificate of having taught at their school with a picture of us on the class trip. They read me a poem and thanked me for my creative and fun lessons.
Etelka's eyes were misty and so I gave her my last plate of chocolate chip cookies and told her that I had cried when I came back to my apartment after Eger. Until this moment, I had not gotten that emotional about leaving Szerencs. It had all started on the bus ride home from Eger to Szerencs. I was listening to my MP3 player and THE SONG came on. Everyone has a song that sparks a sharp chill to run from the bottom of your spine to the top. There are lots of songs like this in Hungary for me, because I've had so many new experiences here that correlate with new songs. Anyway, THE SONG played just as we pulled into the Szerencs town limits. The sun was getting lower in the sky, the grass was green speckled with red flowers, and Szerencs couldn't have been more beautiful.
Like a filmstrip being rewound, I saw my year here as the song played...my first walk to the school, the Spar, the train station, the castle...and suddenly I had to fetch my sunglasses from my purse to hide the tears that were welling at the backs of my eyes.
***Today, as I walked home from my last day, THE SONG came on my MP3 player. There's something about its beginning that stops all time for me and makes me reflect on times gone by, but in a good way. I hadn't gotten emotional all day until I heard THE SONG as I trucked up Ondi ut, back to my apartment.
I'm done, finished. And I'm genuinely going to miss my students.
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