Sometimes, it's Not the Packaging...

Pin It Sometimes greatest gifts come in the most unexpected of packaging…

I walked back to my desk on Monday of this week to pick something up, and that’s when I saw the note. It sat there, inconspicuously, like a secret message passed from a friend back from when I was still in school.

I glanced at it and saw the writing on the front, claiming that it was from my ‘silent student’. According to the message, it was to be read only during the Christmas break…not while we were still in school.

I slipped the note onto the shelf behind my desk and there it lay, catching my eye every now and again. However, it was more a mild curiosity than anything else.

It was later that afternoon that package arrived, it silently appeared on my desk as if placed there by Hogwart’s house elves. It lay, unassumingly, wrapped in a sheet of notebook paper. The handwriting—5th grade chicken scratch—was the exact same as on the note which had mysteriously appeared earlier during the day.

The message on this little package was clearly written: OPEN IT.

However, the bell had just rung, indicating that lunch recess had come to an end. So as my class filtered into the room, I set the package aside and began to teach.

The parcel lay on my desk throughout the day, not moving or drawing attention to itself in any way. Near the end of the afternoon, one of my students—I’ll call him Joey—approached me and asked if I’d opened any of my gifts yet. He glanced over to my desk where a few neatly wrapped boxes and bags lay.

I replied that I hadn’t.

He nodded, looked as if he were about to say something, then appeared to change his mind.

He walked away.

Throughout the rest of the day Joey stole glances to my desk, and the package that was wrapped so diametrically unlike than any of the others there.

When he left at the end of the day he wished me a good evening, glanced at the desk one final time, and then ushered himself from the room.

I began to correct assignments, enter scores, and clean up the messes left behind from 29 little people. As I passed my desk, the small haphazardly wrapped gift caught my eye.

Overcome with curiosity, I picked it up. It was light and flexible…whatever was inside wasn’t very heavy.

I carefully pulled away one side of the wrapping, that’s when I saw the tie.

It was ugly—probably something from this boy’s dad’s closet, or one he found at the local thrift store.

I cringed as I looked at the gaudy pattern that—in the gray parts—made it appear to be filthy. You see, I’m very particular of the ties I wear four of the five days of the week, and this one wouldn’t have made the list in a million years.

It was truly and awfully horrific. The pattern of it made me want to vomit…it was a tie throwback from yesteryear.

The tie remained on my desk as I packed up and went home.

That night, thoughts about that tie kept coming back to my mind…again and again I thought of it. I knew who’d given it to me…it was but obvious from his less-than-guarded inquiries throughout the day.

I had a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that I should wear that tie the next day to school. I brushed this feeling aside, but it kept returning…like an unwelcomed visitor during the holidays.

When I awoke the next morning, I finally decided that I’d wear the tie; however, I didn’t do this willingly. I had to practically force myself to put on my white shirt and black slacks. I felt frustrated because I wanted to wear a pair of khakis and a button-up shirt…this would have been far more comfortable ensemble than wearing my ‘suit’ as my students called it. As I thought of wearing that monstrosity back in my classroom, I felt myself settling into a bad mood. It was an ‘old man’ tie and I hated it…in fact, I even decided to take along another tie ‘just in case’ I didn’t feel that I could stomach wearing that one the entire day.

When I finally arrived at school I put the tie on.

I loathed the thing.

When the bell rang nearly an hour later, my students came into the classroom—and as we went over the language lesson for the morning, Joey’s eyes were riveted to the tie I wore…through my peripheral vision, I could see him staring at the tie intensely. He did this all morning long. Every time I went to help him with something, he’d gaze for a few seconds at the tie with a mesmerized look in his eyes.

I was can’t express how glad I was that I’d decided to wear it.

Fast forward to today…the students left for their holiday break at 12:30. When everyone was gone, I began entering grades and organizing assignments for nearly an hour. As I set something on the shelf behind me, I saw the note from Monday morning.

I opened it.

For those of you who may have difficulty reading the scrawl it says:

Dear Mr. Z,


I’m your silent student ‘Joey,’ I wrote this Journal so you can cry tears of joy. I just wanted to say that you’re the best teacher I have ever had. I like It when you tell jokes. I know you don’t know me veary much but I like you because you make school fun. So that’s what I wrote this so Merry Christmas Mr. Z!!!!!!

On the back it read:

P.S. go on facebook on Christmas and find a video that has a Lego guy on That’s my video.

I sat gazing at this note for quite some time.

Words cannot adequately describe the feeling that washed over me. It was a feeling like watching the first snowfall of the year as the silvery flakes tumble from the heavens; it was the feeling you get when the music rises at the end of the movie, and you realize that everything is going to be okay and everyone is going to live happily ever after; it was the feeling you get when your niece or nephew gives you a hug and tells you that you mean the world to them.

It now rolls on to nearly 6:00 and I still sit in my classroom as the hours trudge onward and the skies outside became dark, I look at that tie again.

This tie is one of my favorites…it’s beautiful and I couldn’t have asked for anything better from my student at Christmastime. You know what? Sometimes the greatest of gifts come in the most unassuming of packaging…

So, Just What do You Give A Teacher for Christmas?

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With Thanksgiving finally over and Christmas allowed its full reign of supremacy (or during the onset of that dratted “Teacher Appreciation Week”), many parents find themselves struggling with the age old question...yeah, you know the one: What in the world can I get for that teacher who is educating my child?

Well, perhaps, after throwing up your hands in frustration (figuratively, not literally) and racking your brain for ideas you finally decided to turn to the Internet in hopes to find something - anything - that will help you as you try to find the perfect gift. Well, I’m here to yell you that you’ve come to the right place for the answer. But before we begin, please remember that most teachers don’t expect lavish gifts from their students—a hand drawn picture or a sincere ‘thanks’ as they exit the classroom can be the most valuable and cherished gifts your child can give, and these will most certainly be treasured by the teacher than many others simply grabbed off a shelf at the local Walmart and thrown into a shopping cart.

In a word or eight: gifts are nice, but they really aren’t expected.

With that being said, let us move on to what I call The Needed 9—I would have called it the Terrific 10, but 9 was all I was able to come up with for now…what can I say? It’s late and I’m tired.

Rule 1: If you wouldn’t like this gift, then there’s a good chance the teacher wouldn’t like it either.

Most people tend to forget that teachers are real people. They have interests, lives, and even things that they do outside of school. There are only so many paperweights and green neckties with 2 Teach is 2 Touch a Life 4 Ever emblazoned upon them that one can stomach. Sometimes, what a teacher wants is something that doesn’t have anything to do with school, but rather with them as a person.

Really.

Rule 2: Candy is a big no.

Candy is probably the WORST gift you could ever give. Many teachers are finding it difficult to stay in shape when trapped in a classroom all day—couple this with the fact that they sit, correct papers, and enter grades long after the students are gone. When they’re given boxes of Hershey’s Treasures for Christmas and four our five chocolate oranges you’re not doing them any favors; plus the fact that these things are, quite simply, about the most disgusting things on the planet.

I take that back, that title is reserved solely for Peeps.

However, if you do choose to get your teacher something in regards to sweets, remember that quality has much more value than quantity after you’ve reached a certain age…Heck, I remember being a kid and when given a choice between a pint of Ben & Jerry’s or a full gallon of Snow Star (the Safeway generic, flat, nasty ice cream) I’d have taken the Snow Star every time. When I was a kid the formula was simple:

More = Better.

This type of logic only works until puberty hits—or perhaps young-adulthood. The point is that somewhere along the lines one starts to develop taste and the cheap and nasty just won’t cut it any longer.

If you are planning on getting your teacher something along the sweet lines, try for something they like. Do a little digging, do they like Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups or caramel-dipped apples rolled in Skor and Butterfinger? By finding out just what it is that the teacher likes through a little covert research, you will more likely give a gift that is remembered and valued. This is a much better alternative to those items dropped into the trash on the teacher’s way out of the classroom, or given freely to nieces and nephews who’ll eat just about anything provided that there’s sugar in it.

Rule 3: Knickknacks are a waste of everybody’s time, shelf space, and money.

Look around a teacher’s classroom. There are often little hints as to things that they like. Don’t go straight for the ‘knickknack paddy crap’ shelf where they’re displaying all of the porcelain dogs and Garfield mugs that have accumulated over the years—and are now gathering a layer of very thick dust. These are only there because the teacher didn’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. They’re worried that Joey will come back after fifteen years and not see the shot glass he picked up at a roadside truck stop in Nebraska, and feel crushed that his teacher didn’t save it for all these years.

Can I just start now saying that I, as a teacher, don’t appreciate stuffed animals and toys? Things that tend to clutter shelves are not really my forte – and most of the other teachers I know don’t like having shelves teeming with this that and the other—a smorgasbord of the strange and dollar store.

As a friend of mine once was eloquently observed, it never looks attractive when it appears that “the Knickknack Fairy threw up all over the shelves.”

So remember, if you ever walk into a teacher’s domain and think, “Wow, they have a lot of crap in here.” don’t be a contributor to the problem and pawn off more stuff they’ll have to display in the future. Believe me, they’ll thank you.

Rule 4: Mugs and ties = Lame sauce.

The mug with the teddy bear on the side sporting messages like, “Teachers bear the love of others.’ Just about make me puke. They don’t end up in my home, but usually wind up as proceeds in the box that makes it’s way to the local thrift industries store at least once a year.

I know; I’m crazy.

Just a quick rule of thumb, if it has a cutesy run-of-the-mill saying stamped on it, it’s probably lame.

(See again Rule 1).

Rule 5: Ask about the obvious.

One good thing to remember is that you can nearly always drop subtle questions and get the teacher to talking about their interests in books, music, or even the type of beverages they enjoy; doing this can ensure that you pick something they will most certainly love…a CD they’ve been wanting to listen to, or a book they just haven’t had the time to run out and get.

One teacher I know got a case of Diet Coke with lime for Christmas one year. She went on to say that it completely made her day…it was a gift she said she’d never forget.

Rule 6: Handmade is always appreciated.

What’s something that you can’t seem to go wrong with? Well, for me, it’s often something my students have made with their parents. I just can’t tell you just how much a pair of wooden bookends mean to me fashioned into the letter “Z.” Not only are these useful, they mean a lot because the boy who made them put in the effort. He even wrote a message on the bottom that I would find myself reading from time to time and remembering his quirky mannerisms and the good times when he was my student.

Other memorable gifts have been a pair of knitted gloves with open fingers for photo shoots when it’s cold, homemade magnets of the letter Z, a stuffed ‘Hobbes’ a student copied onto graph paper and then changed the measurements to create a more ‘real world’ sized version. These are just a few of the items that have withstood the test of time and have found a place of permanent residence in my classroom.

Rule 7: Gift Certificates are nearly always winners.

Even if you don’t want to take the time to figure out what a particular teacher likes, you can never really go wrong with a gift certificate to the movies, a restaurant they like, or an online venue like iTunes or Amazon. With these a teacher can pick what they’d like, or what suits their taste. However, getting a gift certificate to Jason’s Deli with no balance on it is probably not the best option.

It does send quite the clear message though…

Rule 8: Purchase something for the classroom itself.

One great item that you can always give that has lasting longevity is something useful for the classroom. For example, take a look at the teacher’s set of guided reading books and find a few titles that are starting to show signs that they aren’t going to last much longer...books being handled by students over the span of years - no matter how carefully they treat them - tend to wear out. Replacing a few books saves a teacher quite a bit of money and gives your child a gift they can use as well.

Another great way to get your child involved is to have your son or daughter select a few of their favorite books for the classroom library (provided your teacher has one), and then have them write a message inside the front cover (one they wouldn’t mind other students reading). The great thing about this type of gift is that it provides new book titles your child and their peers are currently reading - those the teacher may not yet be aware of. Also, it will be a present enjoyed by many others and not just another knickknack to sit uselessly on a shelf. (See Rule #3).

Rule 9: If in doubt, don’t.

Some people get that feeling inside right before they give a gift. It’s that little Jiminy Cricket voice which seems to whisper, “You really shouldn’t give this as a gift.”

That, my friends, is intuition. I say we should listen to this voice far more often than we really do. If you question whether or not a particular gift will be liked, just say no. Trust me, it seems that 9 times out of 10, that little voice knows exactly what it’s talking about.

Well, that’s about all for the moment…the Needed 9 that will (hopefully) help you in your quest to show that educator how much you appreciate them. But never forget, though gifts are nice, the best way to show your teacher you care about them is to tell them.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go dust and sort my porcelain unicorn collection…

P.S. Just for the record, one of my all-time favorite gifts from a student, I’ll call him Joey, was this.

Fever for the Bieber

Pin It Today we were hit by a snowstorm. Teachers were late to school because of the adverse conditions. People were stuck on the sides of the road. My class had our Christmas party.

Needless to say, the festivities were festive, the excitement was exciting, and the drama was dramatic.

Gotta love 5th graders.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I really should have my blog be required reading for my class. Even after my dandy gifts post, I got more than my fair share of candy, tree ornaments, and knickknacks and paddy whacks. Sprinkled amongst them were a few fantastic gift cards, another homemade magnet – this one of a guitar to add to my ‘Z’ and iPod set from the same student (which I didn’t take a photo of, unfortunately, and I’m not driving back out to school to do so). I also got probably one of the most creative gifts this year…I’ll post a photo of it below.

I have to admit, this gift was pretty cool…

As school was starting, I had a certain girl in my class ask if I liked Justin Bieber. I won’t lie…there are a few songs sung by this teen sensation which have me tapping my feet, and even singing along with on the radio. Heck, I even learned to play “Baby” on the guitar—mostly as a joke, but also because it would catapult me into the realms of awesomeness with my class.

Oh, it did.

Imagine 20+ students singing along as their teacher accompanies them on the guitar but nobody really knowing any of the words—only the chorus.

It. was. Bieberful.

“Sure, I like some of his music…” I responded.

She smiled and held up my Christmas present with a flourish; a Justin Bieber poster…

I was touched. I was moved. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

“Wow, Justin Bieber!” Joey said with shining eyes. “Can I have it?”

That would be a negatory there, Ghost Rider…

I’m still trying to decide what to do with it. Another teacher said that I definitely needed to put it in my classroom. I’m thinking of perhaps adding the following message…

I’ll have to let you know.

I'm pretty sure that I’ve got the fever…Mr. Z-ber.

Oh, and just for fun:

I awoke to an orchestra

Pin It The flash of light ignited against the other side of my closed eyelids; that’s probably what awoke me from a restful slumber. The low, guttural tones of thunder followed only moments behind it, chased by the rain. The glorious downpour smattered down upon rooftop in cascades of monsoon. It layered the sidewalks in shimmery wet, inviting worms to surface for schoolchildren to step on as they make their way to my classroom later this morning in this watery-shimmered world.

I moved through the house with lights off, attentive to the wondrous orchestra playing all around me—reverberating through the four walls and ceiling—and even permeating through the very earth below me.

Light flashed, bringing to life the images hanging on the walls of my home for a brief moment of time.

Exhilaration.

Windows were thrust open, and the sounds were fully welcomed into my world—or I into theirs. Above, the lights of the city reflected off of the dark, twisting clouds as a train whistle pierced the darkness from someplace off in the distance; a melancholy souvenir of places far away, and stages of summer I loathed, yet hunger to live again.

But for now, the rain continues to fall in its eternal drizzle from the skies above me, and the August rushing of wind hits the trees in my Olympic-sized backyard, adding to the ensemble which continues to acquire its musicians.

Like before, I am prepared to meet with a smile whatever challenge is here to greet me today,

Welcome, rain.

Repost - The Gift

Pin It Originally posted on January 25, 2009

I am a firm believer that we can be the hands and feet of God; moving and serving each other as he would if he were here walking among us. In the words of Alabama: "...there are angels among us." There have been, in my own life, times when I have been at the receiving hands of these angels in disguise.

I stumbled across my journals tonight. I was looking for something else when I found the stack of books I’d not looked at in years. One of these drew my attention. It was a blue, hardcover journal I’d written a flurry of years ago; in a time when I was making that transition from boyhood to manhood. In the front of this journal I wrote something a few years after my original entries:

“…In all the things in life we do, everything contains lessons…if only we look hard enough to see them.”

For the next few posts, I would like to share a few of the ‘gems’ hidden away in these pages…nestled amongst the frivolity and stupidity of a boy who has changed in so many ways from this person he once was, and in other ways, changed because of these experiences.

Rewind: 12 or so years ago.

When I graduated high school I moved to Spokane, Washington.

I worked at Ernst Home Center.

I also worked at a movie theater.

I used to sell popcorn and tear tickets.

Yet, during this time I never realized just how much the people at the movie theater cared about me.

On November 14th I was just finishing my shift at the theater; Vince Brown, one of the managers, said that he needed to see me after work.

I waited at the box office until Vince was done counting deposits.

He saw me waiting and asked me to follow him outside. I walked with him to his car in the lightly-falling snow, the white flakes spotting my black vest like flakes of ash from a bonfire.

Vince said that he wanted to show me something.

When we got to his car, he unlocked the back door and reached inside, saying, “Now, this is just a little something from me, and someone else who wishes to remain anonymous.”

He pulled out a large J.C. Penny bag.

I knew what was in that bag, even before he handed it to me.

“Vince, I can’t take that.” I protested, holding up both hands.

Vince shook his head, thrust the bag into my hands and said, “People care about you, and you need to let them do things for you every once and awhile.”

He looked at me for another second. As I made to protest again he added, “You’ve been on the ‘giving’ end for so long, you need to know what it’s like being on the ‘getting’ end.”

With that he turned and walked away, leaving me in the falling snow, clutching the plastic bag with trembling fingers.

I watched as Vince returned to the theater without looking back, and I realized that I was crying. I stood there for nearly another minute…snowflakes settling in my hair and on my shoulders.

I had been coming to work that winter without a coat. I had lost my last one nearly a year before, and hadn’t put the money aside to buy another one yet. I figured that I could get by for the time being with a sweatshirt…which I did.

I remember Vince, Diane Cahalan, & Cori Wetzel all asking me at one time or another where my coat was. I always told them that I didn’t need one.

They hadn’t believed me.

As I opened the bag I saw the black and blue St. John’s Bay winter coat.

I felt a little ashamed that I had this jacket. It was undoubtedly expensive, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I trudged to my car, wiping the snow away from the windshield and looked up at the darkened heavens. The snow continued to fall, and everything about me was silent. It was as if the entire world was asleep and I was the only one awake.

I opened my car door and put the bag inside, standing out in the chilly air, my breath appearing before me as puffs of steam. I reached back into my car and took the bag out. I removed the coat and slipped it over my shoulders.

It felt warm. Warm from the kindness of others

Messages to heaven

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The chirp of magic markers sent up a chorus of sound in the otherwise silent family room—like an orchestra of crickets—as we each penned our individual messages of gratitude, of appreciation, and of love.

The minutes passed and still everyone wrote.

Some drew.

We had no idea what the others were writing.

When everyone had finished, we took our helium-filled balloons to the front yard, the yard she loved, filled with flowers and the aroma of the night breeze off of Lake Pend Oreille.

As one we sent our messages skyward, a rainbow of color against a blue canvas of sky.


We stood and watched, arms around each other as the nine balloons floated away to the east; one for each of us present—and one for Mom. We stood there watching until they had completely vanished on the distant eastern skyline—still huddled together in a small group.

Like a family.

Just like us.

Journal – The Gift

Pin It I stumbled across my journals tonight. I was looking for something else when I found the stack of books I’d not looked at in years. One of these drew my attention. It was a blue, hardcover journal I’d written a flurry of years ago; in a time when I was making that transition from boyhood to manhood. In the front of this journal I wrote something a few years after my original entries:

“…In all the things in life we do, everything contains lessons…if only we look hard enough to see them.”

For the next few posts, I would like to share a few of the ‘gems’ hidden away in these pages…nestled amongst the frivolity and stupidity of a boy who has changed in so many ways from this person he once was, and in other ways, changed because of these experiences.

Rewind: 12 or so years ago.

When I graduated high school I moved to Spokane, Washington.

I worked at Ernst Home Center.

I also worked at a movie theater.

I used to sell popcorn and tear tickets.

Yet, during this time I never realized just how much the people at the movie theater cared about me.

On November 14th I was just finishing my shift at the theater; Vince Brown, one of the managers, said that he needed to see me after work.

I waited at the box office until Vince was done counting deposits.

He saw me waiting and asked me to follow him outside. I walked with him to his car in the lightly-falling snow, the white flakes spotting my black vest like flakes of ash from a bonfire.

Vince said that he wanted to show me something.

When we got to his car, he unlocked the back door and reached inside, saying, “Now, this is just a little something from me, and someone else who wishes to remain anonymous.”

He pulled out a large J.C. Penny bag.

I knew what was in that bag, even before he handed it to me.

“Vince, I can’t take that.” I protested, holding up both hands.

Vince shook his head, thrust the bag into my hands and said, “People care about you, Jason. You need to let them do things for you every once and awhile.”

He looked at me for another second. As I made to protest again he added, “You’ve been on the ‘giving’ end for so long, you need to know what it’s like being on the ‘getting’ end.”

With that he turned and walked away, leaving me in the falling snow, clutching the plastic bag with trembling fingers.

I watched as Vince returned to the theater without looking back, and I realized that I was crying. I stood there for nearly another minute…snowflakes settling in my hair and on my shoulders.

I had been coming to work that winter without a coat. I had lost my last one nearly a year before, and hadn’t put the money aside to buy another one yet. I figured that I could get by for the time being with a sweatshirt…which I did.

I remember Vince, Diane Cahalan, & Cori Wetzel all asking me at one time or another where my coat was. I always told them that I didn’t need one.

They hadn’t believed me.

As I opened the bag I saw the black and blue St. John’s Bay winter coat.

I felt a little ashamed that I had this jacket. It was undoubtedly expensive, and I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I trudged to my car, wiping the snow away from the windshield and looked up at the darkened heavens. The snow continued to fall, and everything about me was silent. It was as if the entire world was asleep and I was the only one awake.

I opened my car door and put the bag inside, standing out in the chilly air, my breath appearing before me as puffs of steam. I reached back into my car and took the bag out. I removed the coat and slipped it over my shoulders.

It felt warm. Warm from the kindness of others

Christmas in the Classroom

Pin It It was a typical day at school when I was approached by a parent. The conversation set off something in the vein of:

“Mr. Z?”

“Good morning, what can I do for you?”

“I need you to leave your classroom for about an hour.”

“An hour? What for?”

“Ask no questions, please. It just needs to be done. What time will work best for you?”

Now, if this isn’t enough to make a person suspicious, I don’t know what is.

I checked with my principal and, during our normal literacy time a day or two later, I found myself in the school library meeting with each of my reading groups. The kids were silent and mysterious as they sat at the table with me, but since I asked no questions about the events unfolding in the classroom, I was told no lies.

I wondered what would happen when it came time to meet my reading group with that one student…you know him, I’ll call him ‘Joey.’ He’s that one kid who always seems to feel it his solemn duty to tell everybody what is happening before it does. The kid who yells out what is going to occur at the suspenseful part of a movie, the person who tells you all about the surprise birthday party you’re not supposed to know about, and the person who shares that secret with you—even though they were sworn to secrecy—only because it was far too good not to share.

Yep…that student.

Believe it or not, he didn’t say a word. He offered up a few comments during our reading time, but kept his mouth completely shut about anything and everything else. I wondered if he’d been threatened with bodily harm…or even death.

I thought of a trick my dad used to use on my sister, to get her to tell him what he was getting for his birthday. It went something like this:

Dad: What am I getting for my birthday?
Sister: I’m not telling you!
Dad: Oh well, it doesn’t matter, I’ve already looked at that one (points to a wrapped gift).
Sister: You already looked at your shirt?! Dad!!

Notice that I said ‘sister’ instead of using a name in that little story? Since I have three sisters it will make it harder for you to know that it was Shawna who always fell for this. I wanted to keep her name a secret to protect the innocent…or gullible, that is.

For a fleeting moment, the idea of trying this out on Joey flittered through my mind, but was immediately discarded. However, I will admit that my curiosity was roused, and I found myself wondering just what was going on in my classroom. Anti-homework rallies? Had someone discovered my stash of classroom Bonus Bucks? No, I knew it was nothing of the sort, I mean, really…Christmas was approaching, and I knew that it had something to do with that. I mean, I’m not Sherlock Holmes or anything, but some things are painfully obvious.

After an hour, a student ‘runner’ was sent to inform me that I was now permitted to come back to the classroom.

How kind.

When I entered the room, the students were all a horde of sheepish smiles and averted gazes, as they all pretended to be busily reading, cleaning desks, or picking noses. Okay, just kidding on that last part. They let nothing slip.

A couple of times over the next few days I would overhear little comments like:

I can’t wait until the Christmas party.
It’ll be fun to see Mr. Z’s face.

And the then, from Joey, “Mr. Z, I know something…but I can’t tell you what it is. It’s so cool.”

It was the next day that I was meeting with a literacy group back at my desk. While sitting there waiting for them to get their books and to come, I noticed an envelope with a note attached to it, which had been folded over and stapled. Thinking it was a book order someone had put on my desk, I opened the note. Now, I’m pretty sure that I was NOT supposed to know about this note, and unfortunately, not knowing this, had already started reading it.

Now, while the note did not give specific details, it did mention purchasing a gift, and that the money was to be turned in at the office so that I wouldn’t know what was going on. I felt horrible that I’d seen this note…and I quickly threw it away. Like I said previously, it did not give me any specific details, only that the class wanted to get me a gift for Christmas, and to keep it all a secret.

My curiosity again was percolated and simmering, like a cup of roasted coffee.

Finally Friday, December 18th arrived, and we went with the usual ‘Christmas party routine’ which goes about the same each year…excitement, gift exchanges (somebody not getting the gift they really wanted, and one person reduced to tears). It’s all about fun, right?

A few minutes later the room became somewhat hushed, and a ripple of excitement moved through the sea of students…it was time.

I was instructed to stay at the front of the room and then I was presented with a large, wrapped box, which was placed ceremoniously before me. I was then given the instructions that each layer was to be unwrapped separately. I was a bit worried at this point…after all, I had 28 students, and if each student had wrapped a layer, I’d be looking at least 28 unwrappings. Luckily, it was only wrapped about 4 times in all. When the final bit of paper was torn away, I was speechless…


The books had been signed by every student in the class.

I was a blank slate.
I couldn’t say anything for several seconds.
I was touched.

As I opened each book, various students would point to where they’d written their personal message. And there, emblazed in fiery golden letters on the front cover, were the words:

Emperor Z’s Faithful Servants
5th Grade Class 2008-2009

How could one not be touched by such a gift?

As I read over a few of the messages, I realized that it had been signed by a few students who’d been in my class in years before as well. It was even signed by some of the parents. All of the messages made me smile.

The kids all then gathered around for high-fives and hugs. I felt myself beginning to tear up. I was in awe at the thoughtfulness of a group of ten and eleven year-old kids and their families.

I still am in awe.

All I can say is, ‘thanks.’ Now, I’ve got some reading to do.

Epilogue

Okay, my blog post ended very nicely above, yet there are a few items which probably deserve explanation. First of all, there are undoubtedly several of you uttering—almost solemnly—the words, “Emperor…but why Emperor?”

To tell the truth, I don’t remember exactly when or how, but sometime after I started an educational website at www.classroomofchaos.com, I made it a habit of answering phone calls, “Classroom of Chaos…this is the Emperor.” (However, only at school…not on my cell phone).

It wasn’t long after that that if a student answered the phone, I would hear them say, “Classroom of Chaos…this is the servant.” And occasionally, “Classroom of Chaos…slave speaking.”

Crazy, I know…but it works for us.

Secondly, I debated on whether or not to put images of the messages written in the covers of the three books. I thought they were great, but I was afraid that it would turn into a ‘let’s talk about how great I am’ posting…and that’s not what I wanted. If a few people ask in the comments, I’ll post the images I took…like I said, I don’t want it to be a ‘self proclaiming session’ or anything like that.

Third, who is ‘Joey?’ You’ve mentioned him numerous times on your blog and I wonder…is he just one student? The answer to this is a clear, resounding “no.” Joey is any and EVERY student who does or says something I want to share, but I don’t want to share their names.

It’s strange, over the past year or two, I’ve become kind of fond of ‘Joey.’ When I write about something he says or does…it always makes me smile.

Belated Thanks

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I wanted to offer up one more big, ‘thanks.’

It rained.

What better birthday gift could I have gotten other than that?

I can’t think of anything else…that is, unless it had rained harder.