It's been muggy here. A special kind of wet blanket replete with low clouds and all-day haze that makes things more than a half-mile away vanish. My clothing takes forever to dry on the line, but is soaked again halfway to work.

Everyone is sticky. When my kindergarden kids want to play, their skin sticks together as they play pattycake games or zoom around in kiddo-sized plastic cars in the playroom. The sound of thighs sucking up and off of plastic chairs is unmistakable.

My contract with my school is up at the end of this month. I've decided that I'm not going to renew in hopes of finding a job that requires fewer teaching hours for the same (or more!) pay. So, this last week and a half has been chaos; packing and moving boxes around chaos, finding gifts chaos, visa chaos, going-away party chaos and all the rest. There must be some sort of folk wisdom about not knowing how much you're loved until you leave. In this case, it's certainly true.

I've been spending time with my younger kids talking about how I'm leaving soon. We talk about how it'll be ok because their new teacher will be lots of fun. I show them pictures of where I'm going, trying to give them some idea that I'm not just walking off the face of the Earth. And there's the fact that I'll be coming back. That I'll be back to visit. While I'm still here, the idea of me being gone, for most of the kids is just conjecture. I won't be around if there are any tears, though I'll miss a lot of them dreadfully.

So this last week we've had small going-away parties. I've been showered with cards and farewells. Honestly, this has been pretty much the best job I've ever had. While I won't mind working somewhere else, the friends and students I've had have been a really wonderful experience.

My replacement teacher arrived today and hung out in my (now 'our') kindergarden class. He's a young guy, just finished with his BA. Twenty three, I think. It's pretty clear that he's going to spend some time finding his 'teaching feet' or whatever the hell you call a classroom confidence. In kindergarden, the kids shyly looked his way when I introduced him and huddled a little closer at my feet as I read them Henny-Penny. Their straight black hair pasted to their sweaty little foreheads, still damp from playtime.

And through it all the weather has just gotten heavier and heavier.