Hampton Roads students celebrate last day of school

All around Hampton Roads students have enjoyed their last day of school. The Virginian-Pilot reporters were in several local communities to document the last day. Here's what they found:

Comment on this story with how you felt on the last day of school.

 

CHESAPEAKE: Last day is a bit serious and a little silly

The yearbooks are signed. The chairs are turned upside down on their desks. The still-unclaimed contents of lost-and-founds across the city are on their way to being donated.

Another school year in Chesapeake ended Thursday - and some had more unusual ways of commemorating the year than others.

"Mr. Garrett! Mr. Garrett!" a Hickory Elementary fifth- grader called down the hallway that morning. "Can you sign my pants?"

"Sign your pants? You're weird!" Principal Meredith Garrett told her.

But he bent down and signed her jeans anyway, on the back of her left calf.

It was a special last day of school at Hickory Elementary this year. After 18 years as principal, Garrett was retiring.

He had announced his decision to the teachers a week ago, and was sending a letter home to parents that day, but word had already spread. The PTA president stopped by to say her goodbyes, and presented her own gift card.

"It's not a Corvette," Garrett said, examining the small white envelope. "Is it a down payment on a Corvette?"

"You add water and it turns into a Corvette," one of his staff cracked.

Garrett was torn on whether to retire up until this spring, he said. But he ultimately decided he didn't have the energy to lead a school anymore.

"When those big yellow cheeses pull away, I will wave goodbye for the last time," he said.

At Great Bridge Intermediate

The white walls that had been covered with decorations during the school year were stripped down.

"It looks more like a hospital," Principal Rebecca Adams said sadly.

Teachers' last-day-of-school activities varied from the serious - reviewing of that year's material - to the silly: in Stacey Betsinger's third-grade classroom, students were playing a sort of makeshift game of darts. They solved multiplication problems in exchange for a turn to toss a wet paper towel at the chalkboard.

But everyone at Great Bridge Intermediate spent the day counting down until the school's end-of-the-year ritual.

When the time came, the third- and fourth-graders lined up against the hallway walls, waiting. Then the chaos started.

The fifth-graders marched down the halls and out the door to the waiting buses, spurred on by the cheers of the younger students. It's the school's way of sending the fifth-graders off to middle school, Adams said - and it is loud.

"Stop! Stop-stop-stop-stop!" one parent yelled, trying get a picture of one of her son's friends as he breezed past.

Then the fourth- and third-graders' turns. Students who were free for the next three months burst outside into the sun.

"See ya Mr. Anderson!"

"Come over, Artie!"

"Morgan - I'm taking your bus!"

The staff lined up for a final send off, waving until the buses finally pulled away, some honking as they went. Once they were gone, the teachers had their own private round of applause.

Inside, Betsinger - of the multiplication game - skipped down the now empty halls, though she stopped to talk to another teacher as Adams walked closer. But it was too late.

"I saw you clicking your heels," Adams said.

 

VIRGINIA BEACH: "A Special Day" The Beacon revisits a class they visited on the first day of school

By Lauren Roth
The Virginian-Pilot

For the students in Elizabeth Hess’ class, the school year can be measured in small victories.

Second-grader Kaliha Smith is learning to control a pointer with her head. Six-year-old Sydney Hodgson began to sit still in an armless chair after four months of practice. And fellow kindergartner Cassidy Blount no longer cries when she hears the jarring click of a camera.

Elementary students with severe disabilities come from across the city to attend one of eight special classes at Pembroke Elementary School. These classes, including Hess’, are in a wing unlike any other in the city’s 57 elementary schools.  

When classes let out for the year today, Hess hopes she’s helped prepare her students to interact with the world.

Among her eight students, one can talk and four use wheelchairs. Most communicate by glances, choosing one object over another with their eyes.

First-grader Isaiah Jones is learning to distinguish left from right. “Sitting on your right is a boy. He likes to tap,” Hess said. “His name sounds like a 'K.’”

“K-K-Kirk!” Isaiah said, referring to his fourth-grade classmate, Kirk Gilliam. “Hello, Kirk!”

Hess is teaching the students that words go from left to right so they may someday recognize signs like “Exit” and “Stop.”

She held up laminated placards marked “May” and “June,” and asked the children to pick June with their eyes. Over time, they learn to recognize the colors on the cards, Hess said.

Hess, assistants Kathy Alexander and Sandy Harris and visiting specialists also help students improve skills such as independent eating, using the toilet and speech.

About half of the kindergarten to fourth-graders will attend summer school so they don’t lose what they’ve learned.

As the school year wound down, their lessons included summer safety basics, like wearing a hat and sunscreen at the beach.

And there was time for some fun, too. When Hess played a class favorite known as “The Popcorn Song,” Sydney and Cassidy got up and danced. Secured in special chairs, Isaiah giggled and Kaliha and Kirk smiled.

And just as he had on the first day of school, Kirk reached over and held Kaliha’s hand.

 

SUFFOLK: Moments captured - The last day around Suffolk

By Hattie Brown Garrow
The Virginian-Pilot

Last. Day. Of. School.

Together, these four words spark joy in the average child and sighs of relief from weary teachers.

Friday  was that day for Suffolk’s public schools. There were picnics and playtimes. Recognitions and rehearsals. Hugs and goodbyes.
Let’s take a peek.

Just before 9 a.m., bus 102 pulled into the Mack Benn Jr. Elementary parking lot, prepared to drop off the last round of students. Assistant Principal Bob Brennan waited at the ramp, which was decorated in chalk drawings.

“The funny thing about today is there are hardly any bookbags and backpacks,” he said. “They’ve already shed all the stuff.”

It was a bittersweet day, Brennan’s last with Mack Benn students. He’s off to King’s Fork Middle in the fall.

The children made their way inside, and Brennan followed. He walked past bare walls – where student artwork and other posters once hung – to his office. Before he made it there, a young boy ran up and gave him a hug.

That’s the beauty of working at an elementary school, Brennan said. Here, you have “rock-star status.”

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“I like this, Ms. Stevenson. Please,” begged Kwanaja Woodley.

The third-grader gripped a copy of the book “Stuart Little.” She hopped up and down, a smile on her face.

Carolyn Stevenson is the reading specialist at Mack Benn – at least she was until about a week ago.  After 40 years with Suffolk Public Schools, she decided it was time to retire.

But first she had to make good on a promise: a free book for any child in her Friday reading group.

The book Kwanaja had chosen was set aside for some other students, but there might be another copy on the bookshelf, Stevenson said.

The 10-year-old poked through the books. She wanted “Sounder.” No, “Stone Fox.” Oh, wait, what about that extra copy of “Stuart Little”?

“You got to make  a decision,” Stevenson said. “It’s like shopping.”

Kwanaja laid some books on top of the bookshelf and looked them over. She checked out the book jackets. Talked it over with a friend. Then she made a decision.

“We get to keep these?” Kwanaja asked as she and 11-year-old Jaimé Rodgers prepared to leave.

“You get to keep them,” Stevenson said.

“Hallelujah,” Kwanaja replied.

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Shortly after 10:30 a.m. the parking lot of John Yeates Middle was full, and parents were pulling onto the grass. It was time for the eighth-grade awards, but the day wasn’t going as planned.

The building was hot. There weren’t enough seats. And the program was running late. A power outage the day before had wreaked havoc on the schedule, Principal Dan O’Leary explained.

Parents crammed into the auditorium as the jazz band kicked off the ceremony. Students greeted the crowd and  led the Pledge of Allegiance. Then it was time for another musical performance.

“Yes, I will make a difference,” the chorus sang. A squeal from the sound system threatened to ruin the show. Instead, the teens laughed, and the music went on.

Over the next hour, teachers handed out awards in more than a dozen categories. Perfect attendance went to nearly 50 students, and  30 more met their Accelerated Reader goals.

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At Kilby Shores Elementary, the fifth-graders ate pizza, drank soda and played tag outdoors. Michala Bass and a few others used the time to decorate the white T-shirts they wore.

“Who else hasn’t signed?” 12-year-old Michala shouted.

Students swarmed the girl on all sides to leave their mark on her shirt. They drew peace signs, hearts and smiley faces. There were signatures and phone numbers, and longer messages, too (“Queen wuz here” and “Have a great summer!”).

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 At the end of the day, Deb Rasberry  lined up her first-graders and gave them one last assignment: “I’m looking for the biggest and the best and the most bubbles.”

Each child carried a container of bubble solution as  he or she walked in a perfect line out to a grassy area. Then it was chaos. With plastic wands, the students blew dozens of colorful spheres and began the chase.

“Makayla, you wanna catch bubbles with me?” Maggie Copeland asked. The 7-year-old wore a yellow checked dress with pigs on it.
Makayla Snyder, Maggie’s best friend, ran after the bubbles and watched them pop all around her.

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Vickey Parrish wanted to say thank you. To the teachers. To the administrators. To everyone at Kilby Shores who supported her daughter from kindergarten to fifth grade.

Parrish parked her school bus and stepped out with a box of small vases, each containing pink and cream roses. Rasberry would get one. So would third-grade teacher Sherri Lilley and Assistant Principal Shanté Cuffee.

The list included many more, and Parrish was short on time. She raced through the hallways, distributing the fresh flowers and receiving hugs in return.

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When the time came, there was no bell. Only hundreds of students storming the buses.

The day was over at Kilby Shores around 1 p.m. Tiny faces peered from the rectangular windows, waving and shouting farewells.
“Bye girlfriend,” a girl told one member of the staff.

Engines roared to life. “Start ’em up!” yelled Arnette Streat, a special-education teacher.  She blew a plastic horn decorated with green foil fringe. Then she leaned down to hug a couple of stragglers.

As the buses pulled away from the school, their horns sounded, too. Staff members waved from the sidewalk and from the middle of the bus loop.

“Na, na, na, na. Hey, hey, goodbye,” sang Lilley, the third-grade teacher. 

Inside the school, the halls were mostly empty and strangely quiet. Then the loudspeaker crackled. The “Hallelujah Chorus”  from Handel’s “Messiah” began to play.

“Hallll-lay-lujah, Hallll-lay-lujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hall-layyyy-lu-jah … ”