Moving on. (in the nicest way possible)

I am fully aware that I am a victim of nostalgia. I tend to remember things about the past with much more fondness than I actually felt during an experience. Nostalgia can be a good thing, I think.... sometimes. But never have I noticed it so strongly as right now.

Last Friday was my last day at the instituto. I had conflicting feelings all week. I didn't know how I would feel on my last day. I guess, for most of the year, I never really felt like a part of the school. And most days, I felt rather useless. So I wasn't expecting to feel very emotional on my last day. I mean, I had a great year, and everybody there was super nice. But I didn't feel an overwhelming fondness of it...

...Until my last day. The students were all really sweet. I was actually speaking to them in Spanish, so it felt like we had more of a connection that day than we had had all year long. They wrote me letters, took pictures with me, asked me to write them notes, brought popcorn and chips for a party, and told me a hundred times "NO TE VAYAS!!". They decorated the board to tell me how much they loved me. It was really sweet.

The chalkboard, full of sweet messages.

 
The teachers also brought in a ton of food -- the typical Spanish fare: olives, ham, tostadas, chips, fanta, and those olive/onion/pepper things in vinegar. It was sweet (the sentiment, I mean, not the vinegar). I was not expecting anything of the sort! They also bought a book for me, about Toledo, and they signed little messages for me in the back. It was cute.

With a handful of the profesores, and the lovely Spanish spread.

So, of course, on the last day, I felt all kinds of special. All of the students were asking if I would come back to visit them before I go back to the US, or if I would come back to visit next year. The teachers were asking as well. They invited me to the end of year dinner. And I felt like I wanted to do all of those things. I wanted to go back to visit. I wondered what it would be like if I had chosen to come back to the same school next year.

Then a whole week came and went. And, to be completely honest, I don't miss it. I don't miss going in to school, or sitting in the teachers' lounge with nothing to do. I'm rather fond of having the whole day to myself. I am still thinking about going back for a visit, or meeting a few teachers for coffee before I go. But I don't miss going to school. And so, in the grand scheme of things, I'm glad that I've chosen to go somewhere new. I'm ready for a new city, a new school, a new year, new adventures. (But that raises the point that sometimes "the devil you know is better than the devil you don't.")

The moral of the story is that emotions and nostalgia in one moment can change the way you think about a whole year of life. I'm still trying to work this year out in my mind. It was good. It was bad. It was short. It was long. It was fun. It was boring. And now I have to decide how I am going to remember it all. (And I'm mostly leaning toward the good, short, fun parts.)

I hope this post doesn't come across the wrong way... I really did have a great year. I just don't want to fool myself into believing it was better than it was. I want to be realistic. And despite the fact that I am no where near ready to leave Toledo yet, I am pretty sure I'm just about ready to move on.