Letting Go

Last Night was the Final production of my Theatre B class. Some of these students I have had for 2 years and I have grown very attached to them. I didn't realize just how attached I was until last night. The production was great and it was followed by a wonderful cast party at a very large home of one of my students. 25 of the 30 kids showed up which I believe is a testament to the semester and the evening was great.

The kids swam and hung out and then awards were given out with their names on them. The students had to say their favorite memory of the class and there was a lot of laughing. Then one student, Alicija, stood up and said that she loved the class and that she was sad to leave it. That was it, she lost it and began to cry. Then the fun, upbeat evening ended in a cryfest. A full blown-everyone-crying-and-hugging-cryfest. I felt like it was the last night of camp and everyone was leaving and not knowing if we were ever going to see each other again. Many of these kids are going to see each other, but my school feeds into 2 different high schools and so a new part of their lives begin after next week.

I was touched, and I did everything in my power to be strong and not to cry, but really, I was feeling exactly the same way as these kids. I didn't cry, at least not in front of them. I did cry making the scrapbook, walking to my car after the production on my way to the cast party, when I got in my car to head home from the cast party, now... I don't want them to leave. I have NEVER felt this way about a group of students before. They moved me as much as I apparently moved them.

The greatest part of the evening for me was after the cry fest one of the students, the most talented student, came up to me and started to talk to me. The teachers at school joke that this kid is really a 30 year-old trapped in a 14 year-olds body. He is just older and wiser then the typical middle-schooler, but not in such a way where he cannot relate to his age group. He is well-liked and has many friends. He won the principals award this year because he gets good grades and is involved in theatre, choir, football, student council. He does announcements in the morning, and is involved in a drug-free performance group. The ideal student.

We talked for the next half hour about theatre, and directing, and he picked my brain about some courses he is taking this summer and what to look for. I loved it. During the conversation other students would try to become involved and we would try to involve them, but they just couldn't talk on "our level". At one point even I said, "Al, go hang out with your friends!" and he said, "no, I want to talk to you." I almost melted right there. 30 year-old men should really take some lessons from this 14 year-old!

The whole evening was a blast and made me realize a few things. I am exactly where I am suppose to be. It also made me realize that this feeling of loss even though it hurts, feels good. I want that, I miss that connection.

Camp always gave me that. At the end of the 4 weeks or the 8 weeks I would leave feeling that I have made life long friends, that I belonged there, and that I would miss it. It was always hard to leave. And I looked forward to going back every time. I made the promise to myself that the moment camp became a chore I would stop coming. I am still waiting for that. Even this summer, I am going to be working at camp for a week before I leave for London. I only know about 5 people, but I will get butterflies when I turn on to Smith Lane and enter the camp grounds. Memories will be triggered when I walk the perimeter road at night at stop to look at the stars. Wishes will come true (because they ALWAYS do) when I make a wish on the shooting stars I see out there. My prayers will be heard to when sun goes down at the Beit Knesset on Friday evening and the first star shines above the lake. I cannot wait for that feeling. It has been too long.

That is what I want. That is what I need. THAT is what I am looking for.