There are things in life that never repeat. Your first school assembly. Your first checkered notebook. And your first goodbye. It’s not as bitter as the ones adults face, but it’s certainly no longer child’s play. It’s a farewell to a routine that felt like warmth. To people who became a whole world. To the version of yourself that existed before you learned that life moves in chapters.
Kira Kasynets, known to many as Lady Kira, sang about exactly this. About herself — at ten years old. And about all of us — former schoolchildren. Her debut song “Farewell, Dear School” was performed at the last bell ceremony in her hometown of Uzhhorod, at Primary School No. 1. Not as part of a concert set. But as a gesture. A preserved memory that doesn’t need explaining.
The idea was hers. Kira didn’t want to hand over flowers or a card — she wanted to capture her school in a song. To say thank you with her voice. And to do it as precisely as her experience allowed — an experience already filled with surprising depth.
The song was written by Bazhana — one of Ukraine’s most renowned songwriters. Yet every word carries Kira’s own intonation. There’s nothing “childish” about it — she’s not performing feelings, she’s living them. That sincerity didn’t come from nowhere. At eight, Kira set a national record by reciting the longest Ukrainian tongue twister live on air. But even that wasn’t a show of skill — it was part of a fundraiser for a drone for the Armed Forces of Ukraine. A very different kind of childhood initiative — calm, intentional, aware.
The video for the song was filmed in Kyiv by director Anton Shatokhin. Streets, passersby, real life. The camera simply follows Kira. People stop, listen, don’t act. One of them is TV presenter Oleksii Sukhanov. But even he isn’t the “star of the video.” The true protagonists are off screen: her teacher, her friends, her class — a class that has just completed its first shared chapter.
This musical debut isn’t a bid for fame. It’s a personal record. A song that doesn’t demand anything — just exists. Like a photo not posed for, but felt.
Kira isn’t rushing into show business. She hosts a language series called “Pravylo” on Instagram, and creates original video projects — one about Lina Kostenko, another about Kuzma. Those, too, are not games. They’re a need to speak.
“I’m very nervous about what comes next,” she says. And that worry — it’s honest. It doesn’t get in the way. It reveals. Because growing up begins exactly there. And with it — so does art.
“Farewell, Dear School” isn’t a hit. It’s an anchor. It holds the memory of the moment when you hug your teacher for the last time and realize: something has ended, and you are no longer the same. That’s why this song matters.
