When I was in my sophomore year of college, I worked as a teacher's assistant at a highly regarded magnet school in San Diego. In the classroom were students from the wealthy area surrounding, as well as children who spent as much as two hours on a bus each day to go to this school. Among the memories of that assignment is the one of a small boy, in the 3rd grade, who wanted me to "wait for him," because he wanted to marry me. At Christmas time I learned about the surprising tradition of teacher gifts. That year, as best I can recall, I received a brooch, two coffee cups, one fancy soap, a Christmas tree ornament, and one very special gift, a roll of toilet paper given to me by a young girl who wanted to give me something, and that was all she could find in her house.
One of my mentors, early on, told the parents of her kindergarten students, that if they felt so inclined to give her gifts, she would like... and she gave them a list of things that the children would love to use in the classroom.
Smart lady.
Since then, gifts from children have included a wide range of nifty things-- from specially made boxes to lavish gift certificates, to chocolate. Lots and lots of chocolate. (It is hard to go wrong with chocolate.) Each and every gift created a memory for me.
This year, the wonderful parents of our school created a thoughtful set of delights for us to enjoy on Teacher Appreciation Week. The cupcakes, the snacks, the lunch, each treat gave me something to look forward to during the day and made my tummy happy. I loved that the treats were made with love and not overly expensive. But what got me were the cookies. Oh, my. The cookies.
In this day, when most people work far more than they would like to, made from scratch seems like a distant memory. Not quite like when I grew up, when the church ladies would have unacknowledged contests at the potluck to see whose plate was ready to be washed first, devoured by the eager community. Now we have Safeway, and Whole Foods, who do a fine job of making cookies... but they aren't homemade.
Cookies say, "I love you," and, "I baked this just for you." They represent toil and fond thoughts. Lasting only a few minutes, they are fleeting glimpses of heaven.
Thank you, all of you, for the lovely gifts you have sent, from trusting your child to my care, to the exquisite pieces of art, both handmade and purchased, to the chocolate and everything in between... but most of all, thank you for the cookies.
