There are some naive fools out there who will try to convince others that the best gifts are free and tra-la-la-dee-da and all that. Just the knowledge that I sent the kids of Room 24 back out into the world a little bit better than when I got them in September should suffice. Or even that they needed minimal therapy as a result of being in Room 24 should be an acceptable reward.
But a gift? An actual tangible representation of appreciation for the thousands of times I said, "Students? Time to return to your seats, please," in my sing-song Snow White voice before barking orders like an Army drill sergeant on his fourth nicotine patch of the day, issuing personalized verbal invitations to the cherubs who didn't think the term "students" applied to them. Yeah...that would be the ENTIRE classroom population. Don't try imagining "The Waltons." It wasn't "Goodnight, Jim-Bob," "Good-night, Mary-Ellen." It was more like "Dead Man Walking" where I yelled a name and said student would shuffle, slowly and reluctantly, toward his/her assigned seat as though it were the electric chair. A gift for me not itching to pull the switch? No...I couldn't possibly...
Or what about during "Elephant Week" where I planned out pachyderm-related fun activities to counter-balance "State Testing Week?" Students who completed ALL the activities won a nifty prize. Apparently not everyone is as driven by prizes as I am but the four students who did receive the cute little stuffed elephant personalized with their names loved them. But never in all my years of teaching though, did I anticipate having to say, "Robert, please stop using your elephant as a weapon" or "Robert...it's a trunk...NOT a trigger." Prizes DID kind of fall flat this year. The five dollar bill stapled to my bulletin board was there so long that my custodian finally asked if he could read the necessary books to become a "Knight." I realized that the $20 for the first prize of my first annual State Capital Bee wasn't enough motivation when I was repeatedly asked what the second place prize was. Presents? No...teaching the children was present enough.
Except is WASN'T...because I was also saddled with parents with wicked...wicked...wicked senses of humor who reveled in making my life miserable! A witness to my daughter falling victim to an avalanche of cheese...End-of-year teaching gift: A jar of nacho cheese dip (valued at slightly less than $75). A spectator of my spectacularly humiliating lack of Field Day physical prowess...End-of-Year gift: An 8 X 10 framed photograph of me in all my ridiculous glory (valued at slightly less than $75). Why? Why?!? Why?!?!?!?!? I'd thoughtfully provided my shoe size, restaurants-of-choice, and favorite gem selections at the beginning of the year. The children learned by week two that I do NOT eat apples although Kendra taught me this year that I WILL eat an unpeeled sliced kiwi coin (Go figure). No where, in the fine print, does it say that I have to accept unflattering pictures of myself being humiliating in front of an audience of hundreds. But what I DO accept is establishing relationships that go beyond the report card. Gifts that demonstrate that a parent is doing more than just thanking their child's teacher...they're thanking a friend. Thank you.
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