Hey–it could hold pens or something. or liquor.
So, it’s that time of the year again–end of the school year means teacher gifts.
When I taught, it was middle and high school, so I almost never got any gifts. I was actually shocked the first time I got one because I didn’t expect it. Over the years I would get knick-knack or two, a pile of post-its, sometimes the ubiquitous Starbucks card. All of which were sweet and appreciated. I remember being genuinely touched that a student (or more likely his parent) would think of me at the end of the year. Yes, some of them were stinky candles and stuffed animals that I will admit hit the garage sale table later in life, but EVERY ONE OF THEM was appreciated. It warmed my heart–which we all know is a cold unfeeling thing. It made me regret flunking some of them. SOME.
Anyway, I’ve seen a few blog and FB posts about what NOT to get teachers for gifts, and I have to say it bugged me a little. I am bothered that there seems to be this idea of the “wrong gift”
Gift giving, in my book is a selfless thing. I am not giving gifts to Ben’s teachers (and aides, and therapists…) out of OBLIGATION, but because I want to thank them for working so well with my child and helping him grow, not only academically but socially. The boy leaving their charge is NOT the same boy who entered it. Sure he still struggles with transitions, and Goddess only knows when he will EVER go pee-pee in the potty, but he speaks now, and communicates, and TRIES. These 2.5 years of preschool have really worked wonders on him. And those ladies need to know how grateful I am.
So, I dislike it when someone comes along and dictates what I am supposed to give these lovely ladies. Or anyone for that matter. Because this is a gift from me–something I want them to have.
I really dislike this philosophy that seems to be growing that giving something to someone has rules. That it must be from a list, or something that the person dictates that they want. That’s not gift giving–that’s fulfilling a shopping list. Yes, I’m sure Ben’s teachers and aides and therapists would LOVE gift cards or straight up cash. and in the past I have given that. And may give it again this year. But not because it’s what I SHOULD give them. I am also giving them some handmade goods–because that is how I express my gratitude to others, by MAKING them something. Does everyone appreciate it? prolly not–but that’s not my problem. I myself cherish every handmade item ever given to me because it is a gift of time and creativity and (dare I say it) thoughtful prayer.
Just stay off this road, eh?
But this isn’t about handmade vs. cash. This is about gift-giving. As I see it, a gift is something that comes from your heart. Yes, it may be store bought, and yes, it may be something someone has expressed a desire to have. But it is not something to be checked off a list. It is not something to be sneered at because it isn’t as expensive as other things, or as “useful” as some would want it to be. Yes, these things may end up at a garage sale a year later. But when I give something, I relinquish all ownership of it when it is given, and while it may sting that someone sells my hand-knit cap, I know that I gave it with thought and love. I am not responsible for how the other person receives it–only for how I present it. If they wanna regift it, who cares? If they use it to line their birdcages, well, then at least it has garnered some usefulness. And if they wanna barter it for sex, well then, who am I to judge? Are there crappy gifts given? OF COURSE THERE ARE. we’ve all been on the receiving end of a gift that made us cringe. But if you cannot see and appreciate that someone took the time and effort to give you something, then that, in my honest and snarky opinion, is a deficiency on your part, NOT THEIRS.
I cannot dictate gratitude, nor can I control or change others. So all I can go is give something from my heart, with thoughtfulness and love, and hope that it is appreciated.
That said, I plan on giving Ben’s teacher, and aides, and therapists lovely little spa bags with some homemade goodies, and a tearful thank-you card, and perhaps a gift card or two if I can swing the finances.
And? I get lovely thank you cards from them EVERY TIME.
Don’t let others dictate your gift-giving. Otherwise it just isn’t a gift.
If people are just staring, if could be Mace Windu and his purple light-saber. A calming influence who would use the Jedi mind trick to fool the weak-minded into thinking you were never really there, and that they actually saw Jar-Jar-Binks over in dairy.
If you are facing the 
If that same group of ladies is starting to get bold, and look like they are going to try to offer you some advice or a lecture on effective parenting from the 1950′s involving spanking, grounding or electric shock, there is always Neville Flynn from Snakes on a Plane, to just start shouting about these Mother Fuckin’ People in this Mother Fuckin Store, and it should clear rather quickly.
Then of course, there is the ultimate: the Jules. And once he appears, curls and all, you will KNOW you are about to receive some judgement. It will be quite clear he is not there to give anyone a foot massage. And of course I don’t mean the Jules that decides he wants to be a wanderer while he delicately eats a blueberry muffin and eschews all pig products. I mean the “I don’t remember asking you a GODDAMN THING”
I feel useless. I feel fat. I feel tired. I feel uncreative. I feel uninspired. I feel like everything around me just keeps on moving and I’m stuck in a big bowl of pudding–and not a good flavor either. Like pistachio or some shit.
2) Ben starts kinder in the fall. And frankly the amount of paperwork and fucking medical information I have to give is setting me on edge. It feels invasive. And I’m not one who’s all private and secretive. But I’m a little bothered by the PACKET of info I have to provide. And–another honesty–when I go in, we will no doubt have to go through the questions and the confusion about his iep AGAIN, like the last time, and then I will be told about the program that I have already investigated AGAIN, and be introduced to the teacher, whom I met with for said investigation, AGAIN and I suppose I am tired of having to FUCKING EXPLAIN MYSELF and my son. and I’m tired because I know this will HARDLY be the last time. HARDLY. And I’m wondering why they don’t have a special liaison to handle this instead of the school secretary who is not going to LISTEN to me but rather ASSUME (as she has done before) and then READ and say “oh”. It’s exhausting, this ferris wheel. exhausting.
