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"  You&amp;#039;d think they were sending off a dear old friend to a years-long job in the bush of Africa where there aren&amp;#039;t any phones. My son&amp;#039;s third grade class was huddled near the door of their classroom, waiting to surprise their student teacher, who was leaving after a little more than a semester with the kids. They&amp;#039;d prepared their speeches, brought their gifts and planned their farewell extravangaza. If only grown-ups knew how to party like these nine-year-olds. Maybe then we&amp;#039;d appreciate each other a little more. We class moms were hiding in the back of the classroom, keeping an eye on the spread of bagels, fruit, orange juice and other goodies we&amp;#039;d brought along at the teacher&amp;#039;s request. From there, I could see the excitement brewing among the kids, who had just been warned over the intercom that Miss Umstead was on her way.  When the guest-of-honor appeared in the doorway, they shouted, &amp;quot;We&amp;#039;ll miss you, Miss Umstead!&amp;quot; She looked absolutely ebuillent as the kids jumped up to welcome her. And suddenly, I felt rather left out. They took turns hugging her while the teacher explained how the kids managed to keep the shin-dig a secret all this time. They all laughed when she told about the time Olivia almost blabbed it, and about how they&amp;#039;d been looking forward to the party all week long.Granted, what third grader doesn&amp;#039;t count down until the chance to chow on chocolate covered mini donuts? But really, these kids were thrilled to show their appreciation for a student teacher who had been in their classroom for what? All of four, five months? We grown-ups could work with someone that long and not even notice they&amp;#039;d left: &amp;quot;Where&amp;#039;s Karen?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;She got another job upstate last week.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Oh. Didn&amp;#039;t she just start here?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;I dunno.&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Wanna go to Chili&amp;#039;s for lunch?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Sure!&amp;quot; Yet in my son&amp;#039;s classroom, the send-off was full of fanfare. Miss Umstead took a seat while the kids got up one-by-one to read the speeches they&amp;#039;d written about her. Several kids remembered fondly the time their beloved student teacher taught them all about frogs. A few others mentioned how nice she is. My son called her, &amp;quot;fun, fun, fun and fun,&amp;quot; and everyone agreed she&amp;#039;ll make a fine teacher some day. After they enjoyed their treats, they presented Miss Umstead with their own home-made gifts, plus the ones we class moms had collected money from everyone to buy: A bookstore gift card and a frame bearing a photo of the class. Maybe in a few years, she&amp;#039;ll replace the photo with a picture of her boyfriend or her cat, but I&amp;#039;ll bet that, right now, it&amp;#039;s on her desk or perhaps, even her coffee table. She probably presents it to house guests, regaling them with stories about the time Justin played his guitar at the holiday show or the day the class earned a pizza party for being extra good. She probably misses them already. The whole thing made me want to be a teacher, or at least a student teacher even if for just a few months. Because the only other way most grown-ups could get this kind of reception is to return after being missing for a few weeks and presumed lost at sea, or to volunteer for a one-person, one-way trip to Mars. These kids had fallen in love with Miss Umstead, and, judging from the tears in her eyes, she had fallen in love with them, too. Before I left the party, I told Miss Umstead how much my son will miss her. She assured me she will miss him, too, and I&amp;#039;ll bet that&amp;#039;s true. As the kids gathered around her once again, she promised to visit them before the end of the school year. But my son had bigger plans. when he got home from school, he asked, &amp;quot;Wouldn&amp;#039;t it be cool if Miss Umstead came back next year to teach and had all of us in her class?&amp;quot; &amp;quot;Yes, it would,&amp;quot; I answered. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;ll bring the bagels.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/life/parenting/a20453/a-fond-farewell-to-the-student-teacher/>