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Last Day as Fifth-Graders

On the first day of summer and last day of school at Kate Waller Barrett Elementary in Arlington, Va., sat 25 fifth grade students from Donna Barnette's class who were about to become sixth-graders.

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Wednesday night, Theresa Bratt, principal of Barrett Elementary, took the stage of the school auditorium. She had a cold and had been saving her voice. "It is now my pleasure," ( cough, cough) "to present the DAR citizenship award," she said.

Most of the boys had come in baggy suits, girls in evening gowns. Parents with digital cameras packed the rear of the chamber.

Five students read inspirational essays. One said he hoped to learn every language in the world. Another said he would probably become an astronaut.

Parents rushed forward to snap pictures as students lined up for their diplomas.

Afterward, in the leafy courtyard at the center of campus, Sarah Choudhury embraced her daughter Imar.

"I think she's nervous," the mother said.

"I'm not," Imar said.

"You're not? Well, I'm nervous for you, then."

On Thursday, students cleaned out desks, and the teacher's husband came to remove Virginia, the guinea pig. Imar asked to ring the class bell one last time, the one Ms. B used to quiet the room when other methods failed.

Lunch on the last day was turkey on a croissant, a pear slice and chocolate milk. Ms. B let her students eat in class. Then, for a laugh, she divided the class into groups and assigned them all-but-impossible tasks: calculate pi, find a cure for global hunger, invent a viable alternative fuel.

Someone handed out cups of orange soda and plates of potato chips. Students broke out chessboards and spools of colored twine, and a few began to watch a DVD of "The Parent Trap." A student from next door walked in and smeared shaving cream on Barnette's face. She wiped it off.

"I'm not going to give you your report cards, I'm not going to give you your diplomas, I'm not going to give you your stuff, until I see a group of kids who are ready for sixth grade," she said.

Students loaded their backpacks and filed into the hall. They lined up for one more hug, and then tapped down the stairs and away from Ms. B's classroom for the last time. Their teacher's voice echoed behind them: "You're such a good girl. . . . Oh, I'm so proud of you. . . . I won't cry if you won't cry."