The Best Teacher Gifts

Here is my latest story, "The Best Teacher Gifts" by Kathy Dillingham

Holidays or Teacher Appreciation week often result in little packages of various colors thrust into my hands and with an abundance of Scotch Tape. The students’ enthusiasm and cheery greetings of “Merry Christmas!” “Happy holidays!” or simply, “I brought you a present!” are surpassed only by their wide grins or twinkling eyes. The gifts over the years have been handed to me as the children have rushed into our room, shyly thrust in my direction, or placed discreetly on my desk while I was busy with others. Sometimes it would include sweet, scribbled thank you notes from the my students, or neatly penned manuscript from their parents. I have always been sensitive to the fact that some families do not celebrate the holidays or have the means to purchase a gift. As a result, I developed a policy over the years to not open the presents in public because of my concern; unless, of course, it was a group gift and every child and family was included, or I happened to have a private moment with just the one student.

I thought it might prove helpful to unwrap some of the best teacher gifts I’ve ever gotten in hopes that it might inspire others to recognize a good teaching gift when they receive it:

The first one was given to me by a professor in the teacher credentialing program as a young student teacher. She advised us to hang something in our rooms that was a piece of art, photos, an object, or something to look at that was inspirational or gave us strength. I remember buying a poster with lovely wildflowers on it from a national park. I laminated it (because as a new teacher, EVERYTHING gets laminated) and hung it on the wall behind my desk. I was in a room that was used on the weekends and I had to pack every movable object in the cupboards on Friday evening, only to unpack it again early Monday morning. I taught pre pubescent sixth graders; 25 girls and 3 boys. I went on ten field trips, our school was under the scrutiny of accreditation and I was, naturally at the age of 23, a perfectionist. I arrived very early in the morning, ate lunch with the kids, stayed after school, and then went home to work on lesson planning and grading late into the night and on weekends. I loved the kids, the parents, and coworkers. It was a tiny school, one teacher per grade level. But slowly I wasn’t sleeping well, I wasn’t eating enough, and I was working, working, working. Some lessons would bomb. And I was hard on myself. The poster was a reminder. A way to take a pause, in my very stress-filled, busy day, to know there was beauty even, despite myself. I realized my professor was correct. I gained strength, if only for moment, to carry on.

To this day I continue to hang art, photos or objects that make me feel grounded when I look at them. Photos of my family, former students masterpieces, inspirational sayings, theater programs from vacations, mementos from monumental moments in my life; including some physical, or spiritual, or academic ones. This gift has served me well.

The next gift I received was the gift of reaching out to others for help. I was in my second job placement, a public school located in a working class neighborhood, teaching second graders. I shared a position with another pregnant teacher. She taught the first week of school, we taught the second week together, and the third week I was on my own while she was out on maternity leave. I’d finish up in February and she would come back to complete the year. I had one parent volunteer who would bring her toddler and help with prep work in the back of the room. I would have loved to have more small group instruction but could not manage it without help. Some children had poor English skills, some were victims of abuse. We had a teddy bear that was sent home with a journal, we laughed and worked on basic reading, math skills, and more. One boy was angry about his homelife, soiling his pants in a solid protest, forcing a grandparent to come and bring a change of clothes so the stench would not follow him. Another girl, from Japan, was a new immigrant and would smile. She aced her spelling tests but acquiring language to use daily was slow to come. The girl she chose to try to befriend was a bit of an outcast, and I was suspect of her home life. This odd little pair made me realize that you only need one personal connection, to feel connected.

To help me with this sweet group of children, I enlisted 7th graders from across campus to come to my room on a regular basis. When they walked in the room, I would have a to-do list waiting for them. They would assist me by prepping items, they would run errands, going to the office for ice cream on days I had a celebration party, helping me scoop and serve, or I had them read to small groups. I learned it was mutually beneficial. They could see their efforts were very much needed by a room filled with second graders and were rewarded with hugs from the students and verbal praise from me. Still, I wanted more for my students.

I began to try and think of ways I could encourage these kids by bringing in a special guest. They were baseball enthusiasts! My brother and sister had a friend who was playing pro ball for our local hometown team. I had mentioned it at one point. One of my students, a shy, young boy named Daniel brought a baseball card to school the next day with the player’s photo and stats. I decided to make it my mission to get the pro ball player to come speak to the kids about studying hard, making the most of their time at school, and to aspire them to dream big. Lucky for me, before the Internet or social media I was able to track him down and asked him to come visit us. The kids were overjoyed.

Years later I was in a pediatrician’s office. The receptionist said, “I don’t know if you remember me. I was a volunteer mom for my son’s class when he was in second grade. His name was Daniel.”

I couldn’t believe it, as it was ten or more years later. She told me how her son still talked about when that player came to our classroom. I knew then, as I do now, enlisting help from parents, aides, local business volunteers or even older students is a win for everyone and a gift for all involved.

The next teaching position was a newly created program and it was here I received my third gift; which was to dive in, trying the unknown. My principal, said that we would be the blind, leading the blind, as this was new territory for both of us. She was near retirement and I was in my third year of teaching. We began to research other school districts that had similar positions and programs. We started out with four students. I worked from my car, carting supplies to families that were choosing to homeschool their children. From there I worked my way to a janitor’s closet where I kept supplies. I worked with four administrators in four years, two retired after one year, one was fired, and I only met her once. Eventually we grew and hired two more teachers and had over 40 students in grades K-12. I created a newspaper, we had park days and field trips and during that time I gave birth to two more children. I was challenged and stretched and learned so much from parents who were raising children and using excellent curriculum, and personal learning plans that were interest-based, while meeting the state standards. I made lifelong friends. This gift has served me well and even today, I enjoy trying something previously unknown and creating something new. Seven years later I resigned from that position and moved to the school district where my three children attended.

My fourth gift was that family comes first. I job shared for a number of years, with a number of teachers, and later, after my children were older, I worked full-time. I taught grades K, 2, 3, and 5. I learned the very best, from the very best. Our school was a family and my children were raised within a community of staff members who also had kids at that school. We were guided by 3 simple rules and one simple statement: Hurt no one on the inside or outside. Respect your school and all its property. Special places require special behavior. And lastly, we love Vista Grande.

 We had musicals and plays, field trips, together days, art classes and science labs and library media, living history, technology, reading, writing and math. We had planning days during the summer, we attended meetings after school, and planned during lunches. We worked hard. Really, really hard. The expectations were high, but we were also supported by amazing families and a principal who worked harder that we did. We laughed, we cried, we sometimes disagreed but together we achieved more.

But as much as we poured into our family at school, we were told, “Family comes first.” This has meant that whether someone was having a baby, a dying parent, a marriage, a divorce, or a spouse surviving the blasts at 9/11, we had a lot of latitude when it came to our families. When my child developed an autoimmune disease, I was given time to stay with her in the hospital. Later, after she was released, I took more time off, as family necessity days, for doctors appointments or much-needed time to regroup while my child was cared for by my coworkers. Our work is important. We get to have a positive impact and make a difference every single day. But our families are even more so. This gift is key.

I received my sixth gift, that is, to do what you know is best, even if it makes you uncomfortable. I was teaching fifth grade and the family I would be working with had always requested separate conferences for their child, due to a contentious divorce. With my administrator’s approval, I politely let the parents know I would only be holding one conference per child. They could choose to come together, in our student-led conference, or they could each choose one conference to attend, solo. At that point in my career we had a fall and a spring conference. They put their differences aside and attended together.

Still, it was not all smooth-sailing. When it came time to fill out the registration card for which school their child would be attending for middle school, it was returned blank. The countdown to the end of year had come, and still they had not made a decision. Mom wanted one school and dad another. I’d requested an additional conference, the day after school closed. I asked my principal to attend and both parents, without their child. Again, with my principal’s knowledge (communication is key), I gently explained what I had witnessed that year. I’d seen a child torn between two households. I gave concrete, specific examples I had observed and made sure it was not one-sided, favoring either parent. I then told them I was going to take off my teacher hat and talk to them parent-to-parent. I said that I could tell that they both loved their child, and that their child loved them. I explained that middle school and high school would present a new host of challenges and that their child would need both of them. That they needed to realize that the love they had for their child, far surpassed any ill-will toward one another and that communication with one another would be paramount for their child’s success. I pointed out that this had been going on since their child was a toddler. I suggested that they might want to consider a family counselor with the three of them and any other coparents.

I then said I understood. I explained my husband and I had separated that year and were getting a divorce. I told them I hoped that they could try asking their child where they wanted to attend, and support that decision together.

I felt hopeful when later, after our meeting, I had to go run an errand. I saw them standing at the end of the corridor in the quad, facing one another and chatting. No shouting, no anger. They were deep in conversation, I’d say sincere, and I would even add, loving.

I do not always have conversations like this, as it is not my business. But in this case, though I was uncomfortable, I felt being authentic and simply telling them what I had observed would help my student in the end. Sometimes doing what you know is best, and is uncomfortable, can lead to a great gift.

For my seventh gift, I learned to allow students the opportunity for personal growth if they wanted to put in the extra time and effort. At this point in my career I had moved to a brand new middle school and felt fortunate to be chosen by a kind, gentle principal who was a man of integrity. I was hired to teach reading, writing and history two sections of sixth graders. I was able to provide a place for new teachers to observe my lessons and became a mentor teacher and later a grade level leader. I feel my classroom management improved and tried to create a classroom that was inclusive and provided leadership roles.

My niece was attending college at the time, she was an A student but had a very rigorous English professor. Her professor would evaluate essays. If the students were willing to attend writing labs, proving that they were reworking their pieces, the professor would re-evaluate their essays, but she also required students to turn in all of their drafts, showing evidence.

I am firm not a believer in creating unnecessarily difficult lessons, and stressing out students. I’d like to think I modeled reading and writing lessons and had clear teaching points. Our school was a high performing one and many students maintained an A average, these were not inflated grades but well-earned. But I had a few students that wrote average essays, barely meeting the state standard. We used a rubric system and I wrote lots of notes for the students, and conferred with them trying to help them improve their writing. After some soul-searching, I decided to copy the college professor.

If my students were willing to rework their piece, I was willing to re-evaluate it, as many times as they turned it back into me for another evaluation and conference. I think I only had three students out of 60 or so that exercised that option. But work it they did! The students’ writing improved and I was rewarded and encouraged by their sweat-equity.

My eighth gift was realizing that the relationships we develop with kids, can change lives. I now teach at an alternative public school. I work with parents that homeschool their children, and students in middle and high school in an independent study program. Every day is different. Every kid is different. Some kids come to us loving school with interests and hobbies and dreams. Some kids come to us with physical or mental challenges or a dislike or distrust for school or the institution. But this is where the magic begins. We are able to find out what students like, build on that, and get them excited about learning again. Every day I learn something new from these students. We talk, we laugh, we encourage and sometimes, when needed, we prod. We are real. Students that embrace our school, albeit slowly at times, develop a personal responsibility for their learning, self-advocating for what they need. Over time, we witness growth and maturity. The gift of changed lives is nothing short of miraculous. That includes people like myself, their teachers. Their kindness, generosity, work ethic, and creativity, are inspirational. For some, they have some deficits in ability, or knowledge, or credits, and they struggle and claw their way out, creating a new life for themselves. The relationships developed while teaching is a great gift.

The ninth gift I’ve received is that mantras matter. I’ve written about this before: that is, that the message that kids tell themselves or that they have embraced from others for themselves can make them bitter, broken or better. I hope that by the time they leave school they embrace better. They believe better. They do better. It’s as simple as that. I’m not talking about giving everyone a trophy simply for showing up. I’m saying if they lose, or fail, or fall down that they can acknowledge and accept that fact, or themselves, without falling apart. That they can use that failure or adversity and develop a growth mindset, learning how to try again, and again and again, if needed.

No one is perfect. No one is happy all the time. What I can hope for my students is that they learn to be as kind to themselves as they are to others when they make these mistakes, and that life does get better. And then it gets hard again. But that these ebbs and flows are natural. They will move forward. They will live the very best versions of themselves.I know this to be sure, because I have seen it. I’ve seen kids learn to accept themselves, be kind to themselves, and while making mistakes. I’ve recognized the gift of mantras matter.

The tenth gift I’ve received is seeing miracles. I had a student I wrote about a number of years ago, I called him Marco* (not his real name). Marco came from a neighboring district and was smart, articulate, kind and generous. I saw him hop on a bus, a BART train, and another bus to come to school. He and his family did not have a lot of money.I know he took care of a grandfather, a toddler sibling, and worked jobs only to have his money stolen from him by his parents. He tried working for an uncle and didn’t get paid. He told me about his girlfriend’s rape. I saw him cry. I saw him give a dollar of his own money for our coin drive, despite his money troubles.

I worried when he quit showing up.

He didn’t graduate.

I cried. From disappointment, sadness and concern. I wondered what happened.

Years later and I learned he had been incarcerated for carrying a gun, having joined a gang. When he showed up to my school he explained that he looked at that time in jail as a wakeup call and used it to make changes. He told me how he was renting a room, and bought his first car so he had reliable transportation in order to be able to work. He now had a good job at Home Depot. He wanted to get his diploma and asked for my help.

Sadly and to my dismay, our school program had changed and I would not be able to provide a place for him. I pointed him in the right direction, telling him what to do in order to receive an adult education diploma from the county he lived.

More time passed. I wondered what happened to him. I heard about murders in towns nearby where former gang members were killed while trying to lead new lives. I worried.

But this last week, I phoned his old number.

No answer.

I phoned his mother.

A recording.

I phoned his father.

An answer.

I found out Marco received his diploma online. He got an even more lucrative job as a construction worker. He bought his first house.

I cried again. This time, from happiness.

You see? Sometimes even teachers receive miracles as gifts, these make the best teacher gifts.