Near the end of my second year teaching, I had formed great relationships with the kiddos and their parents. One parent even volunteered in my classroom during our end of the day free writing time. She would call and let me know if she couldn’t make it on certain days. On this particular day, in June, she called me.
So she called me and let me know that she wouldn’t be able to make it later in the week. Okay. Then she informed me that at that very moment, she was shopping with her son, my student, for my Christmas gift. In this particular school, there was a tradition around winter break and the end of the year that every kiddo brought a present to their teacher, and that the teacher opened gifts in front of the class. Cutesy. I felt very appreciated in this district!
I’m opening gifts, oooohing and ahhhing like crazy. And then we get to this gift.
“I hope you like it, Miss! I picked it out all by myself!”
I tear off the wrapping paper. I open the box. I reveal…
A bedazzled silky shirt.
With zebra stripes.
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