The story of my last day

It was a very strange thing how this school year ended. Everyone asked me if it was hard to say goodbye on the last day of school. My answer, a resolute "NO!!!" For anyone who experienced the joy of having to come in on Monday June 28th (yes folks, I said Monday) for the last day of school in the New York City public school system, I'm sure you remember that the temperature that day was hovering around 100 degrees and humid. Keep in mind that everyone had already packed up their classrooms completely and even suggested to the students that perhaps it was okay if they couldn't come on Monday, they could just have their parents pick up their report cards and it wouldn't be a big deal. Of course, my entire class who did not already travel to the DR (which is a whole different story) was in attendance. The children spent the morning lying in front of the fan while I sprayed them with water, then it was time for lunch. After lunch, one of my students threw up. Yes, I said it. My student threw up on the last day of school. Thanks for coming!!! Then I think I read them a story and sprayed them some more. Finally it was time for dismissal and they were gone by noon. Teachers, of course, still had to stay until 3:17.5 (don't you love the half minute). My colleagues and I went out to lunch at one of the few air conditioned eateries in the neighborhood just to cool off. We were so hot and disgusting. Finally we worked up the courage to come back to school and sweat out wait out the last couple of hours. We got our papers signed, turned in keys, and chatted and sweated more. There were no announcements, no schedule for the day. Finally, we all just walked out at about 2:30 and no one said anything. That was it. That was my last day.