One of the nice things about teaching is that the year is clearly divided into parts and at the end of the year it's clear how much progress has been made and we all go off on holiday. The only problem is that it also makes life feel like it's flying by.
By the end of the summer some of my students probably will barely recognize me. The precocious little boy of last year is transformed into a bashful shy and retiring type when I ask "how are you?" despite the fact it's only been 4 months since we last saw each other.
My boys and girls that couldn't write at the beginning of the year can now spell using the alphabet. Once they were six. Now they are seven. Next year they will be taking tests!
They seem to grow up so fast, but every now and then you catch a glimpse of the child inside. One of my students, Tommaso, a confident lad of 10, got lost on his way back from his speaking exam at the hotel today. I went to look for him. I wandered around for about five minutes in the crowd of mum's and dad's until I spied him in a corner.
His face was completely white and he looked very lost and rather scared. I laughingly told him off for getting lost and led him back to his mates by the shoulders but it took him a moment or two to recover.
I feel the same way sometimes. I look at myself living away from home, with a job and paying rent and bills and cleaning ALL the things and going to the motherfucking bank and feel all grown up, but other days I have a Tommaso moment and I think WHO THOUGHT IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO LEAVE ME RESPONSIBLE FOR ALL THIS? and I freak out.
That's why we all need our mummies. Even when we're 80 we still need our mummies. I'm about to ring mine now. She hasn't been able to help me with my homework since I was 11 but she's still there whenever I need advice on cold relief, aphids, cooking or sympathy.
Yey for mums!