One day left

I just don't get it. "Don't interrupt instruction time, and don't send any signals to the students," the higher-ups say about our transfers.

And then they require us to dismantle our rooms, turn in our keys and books, and have our bulletin boards cleaned off THREE DAYS IN ADVANCE. I can't do any instruction without books.

So this morning I have nothing on my walls and the kids come into class. All the furniture except their desks is stacked in the corner. The bookcases are empty. I'd assumed they'd be fine, given they've known I was leaving for at least a week. I tried to have the room dark and I was showing Looney Tunes on my LCD projector when the kids entered--didn't help. They saw the grim, blank walls and the waterworks started. Not everyone, of course, but enough to make today a very tough day.

TeeVee Wonder--a huge kid who worries me to death with his diabetes and lack of fitness--came into my second period class and saw the walls. "I'm going into the corner and cry," he said. I thought he was joking, but he did what he said he was going to do. His mom always tells me how much TeeVee adores my class. I fought to get him out of the lunatic fringe last period and into the more stable homeroom he now inhabits. "I have twelve dollars," he sobbed. "Can I get you a present?" I told him to save his money. "It ain't mine-it's my mu-mu-muther's. I'ma bu-bu-buy youse something nice."

Going to fetch my mail at lunch a line of youngins follows me. They're hanging on my sweater, tugging my jeans, pulling on my arms. Ms. Q the counselor says "You look like a mommy duck today."

One more day at the Book. I dropped a g-stack on cupcakes and juice and snacks. We're having a Halloween/farewell party tomorrow. I hope I can get through.