If You Give a Mouse a Cookie

I taught first grade for the very last time at the beginning of this week.
Two of my students cried.
One of them refused to let go of my hand.
One wrote me a hate note for leaving.
All of them wrote me a note in their favorite book that they gave to me- If You Give a Mouse a Cookie. They made me read it to them one last time before I left.

I'll miss all of those little munchkins. They were a happy relief throughout my days. A headache on some. A joy on most. After T and I got married, they all attempted to say my new last name. Can you imagine little first graders that have a hard time deciphering "thought" from "though" attempting to say Kussee? Funniest. Thing. Ever. I can't even count how many times they ended up saying Mrs. Kiss rather than Mrs. Kussee. Funny thing is, Kussee means kiss. I guess in some odd way they were translating the actual meaning of my new name instead.

You know what the worst part of coming back to BYU and being taught instead of teaching is?

My attention span equals that of a first grader. My motivation is zero, zip, nada. Figures.