So, my last day at the school was very emotional. I was to be in five classes of 4^th and 5th graders that are about 7- to 9 years old.

I should know how old they all are as I have class lists of all the kids, their names, and ages.  But I don’t look at the lists unless it’s a class where I call them in groups to come talk to me. I only know the ones that stick out in my memory because of their personalities or their clothes or their behavior. Like the small-statured boy with the painted blue streak in his hair wearing a soccer t-shirt that was always to big on him, or the little hoarder with seven pencil cases and two backpacks, or the boy with a cherub face and curly hair, or the one that grabs my flashcards out of my hand trying to “be the teacher” or the one who’s being raised by his grandmother and always brings me a gift from her.

So, the morning started out with the 5^th grade. Being that it was my last day I made a last-minute power point of my trip to Texas to show them my family and my brother’s wedding which included the bride walking down the aisle etc as they love that. I showed them pictures of Texas BBQ and other American food which they flip over. I followed it with maps of the world of places I will visit before I leave this month. The kids love to look at maps so it’s a great way to engage.

Anyway, I only have 24 days left in Spain and I’m traveling, eating, and drinking like it’s my last 24 days on earth. Credit card balance be damned.

I’m headed to Paris tomorrow to see a friend. Then back to Spain, then on to the Black Forest in Germany where I plan to do some naked Roman bathing in the thermal baths in a place that is coed bathing.  You heard me, male and female together. Strangers. In hot water.  No towels, nada… Ok.   Steaming dangling body parts floating around, in a big thermal bath.  I can’t wait. Well, maybe I can.

I wonder how one strikes up a conversation in those situations. Keep looking up? I mean I changed in a co-ed room in Norway for the ice bathing, but I could just face the wall, so no one saw anything but my cellulite-covered ass. That will teach you not to look more than once.

But I’m talkative. I like to say hello to whoever I’m standing next to or in this case going to sit next to. “Hi, how’s the water? Are all your body parts relaxed? Please don’t float on your back.”

Not that I’m not used to body parts. As a nurse I’ve seen thousands. And here in Spain, full nudity is common at the beaches. Mom, dad, Grandpa, the kids, what the hell, families that swim nude together stay together. I still think men shouldn’t swim naked in the ocean though, I mean there are barracudas out there. Why take a chance at losing the family jewels?

Anyway, my trigger finger plan is Germany for six days then back to Spain to stuff myself with tapas and cheap vino, then off to Turkey for 2-3 days where I plan to try Turkish coffee, and a real Turkish bath. Another nude experience where they put you in a hot sauna room followed by a rinse off, then they scrub your body with a loofa glove, rinse you again then cover you in a mountain of bubbles and massage you. Then one more rinse and it ends with you relaxing with tea and a Turkish snack.

I also read that you are completely naked except for a paper thong I read somewhere. And the person attending you will be naked too, wearing a disposable paper thong just like the patrons. I hope they don’t sweat on me or drop their loofas and bend over.  I mean how close will we be? I hope things don’t rub against me that I don’t expect. I mean every now and then when I was a young nurse the occasional old fart would want a sponge bath from me and tried his best to lay on the edge of the bed almost falling off hoping he could rub up against my thighs when I bent over. A quick reminder of an impending shot usually stopped that shit.

But really what happens after the Turkish bath?  Were both in thongs? Do I ask for a cigarette?  Who tips who? What if the thong falls off? How sturdy is that thing? What if it’s wet? I don’t want to see a wet t-shirt around your parts. I have many questions.

I may have to swig some wine before I go to relax. I wonder if there’s a disposable eye mask I can wear too.

Either way, getting a full-on body bathing experience and a  snack after with no other expectations? Sign me up batman.  I’m a sucker for free snacks.

Besides, what happens in another country stays in another country. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it

Anyway, enough with all the nakedness for the moment.  My last day was emotional with each class. The kids came to me with pictures they drew and hugged me so much that they nearly knocked me down. They were hanging off me like 100-pound grapes that I couldn’t shake loose every time I walked across the playground.

Then in my last class, it was sweet.

The 4th-grade class.

There was one small boy with thick tussled dark hair, large very dark eyes, and a pale round face that sits nearest to the front next to the teacher’s desk. He has some issues and often never smiles or shows much emotion. He is hard to teach at times as I can’t tell if he is understanding anything or not. But he has those eyes that always seem to see right into you but with a hint of something else.

So, after the PowerPoint and question and answer to see if they were listening, I handed out red white, and blue “American flag” pencils as my goodbye gift.

I gave each one a pencil until I got to the little boy. I had no pencils left but I had a pen with the same flag colors. I gave it to him. Then I sat down on a low table in front of him, my back to the large wall tablet, and waited for the teacher to finish calling each child that had to leave for the bus or the cafeteria.

He looked at his pen thoughtfully, then me, and his pen again. He then put it in his pencil case. He got up, stepped up to me, opened his arms, and hugged my neck.

He then looked at me with those eyes and reached up with his little hand turning my chin to the left, leaned in and kissed my cheek.  And then he turned my face back to him and turned his cheek waiting for me to kiss him back. I was being directed. Ok then.

Now I normally don’t kiss a child as the germ factor is already off the chart and I keep affection to the barest minimum. But I hugged him back and kissed him on his little cheek. The teacher smiled and shrugged her shoulders.

He then had the smallest perceptible smile on his mouth, looking me straight in the eyes. Then he turned and got his backpack on wheels and headed out of the room to go home with the others.

That was my goodbye kiss.

In two years the kids all grab me, hug me, hang on me, and try always to kiss me.

But not this one…… until now.

It was a nice ending.

I walked with the teacher back into the school where they threw a Texas party for me, they all dressed in cowboy clothes, did the line dance, and played Achy Breaky Heart over the loudspeakers. Then they gave me a slideshow of my life with them over the past two years. I ordered food and beer and we all ate and reminisced. Yes beer at the school, only in Spain.

It was a great send-off.

This chapter on teaching 1-6th graders in Spain is over. If someone had told me 10 years ago Ide be in Spain doing this gig, I would have said I agree with the international move, but teaching kids? The little nose-picking, cry-at-the- drop-of-a-hat energizer bunny germ spreaders? In another language? When  I never have kids in the first place? I would have said you’re on crack.

But been here done that, and I’m still aware that having kids was never meant for me, but five hours a day three days a week while traveling the world? Ok, I made it work for that mind you. Dealing with 450 kids a week just made my traveling that much more enjoyable. My trigger finger for traveling was activated a lot and if I had it to do over, Ide probably do it again.  

And I got my most emotional goodbye kiss ever. It was all worth it just for that.

The little things in life…. it’s not always a cliche.

23 more days to go.

Somewhere in Spain