Thank you just isn't enough

As we come to the end of a school year, I was thinking about my own kids and their amazing teachers. In the elementary schools, it is pretty common for the room parent to organize a gift and to collect money from the rest of the parents in the class. The national PTA rules (or at least the way my school seems to be interpreting them) have developed to a point, though, that the room parent can’t accept cash, or checks. Contributions must be in the form of gifts or gift cards, and the card that accompanies the gift must include all the names of all of the children in the class, whether they contribute or not.

I think it is wonderful that the class will give a generous gift to the teacher. Both of my sons have teachers I adore, and that have gone above and beyond their duties this year, and both of them deserve the world and more. I will gladly contribute generous gift cards to their end-of-year gifts.

I know that the teachers might not receive anything, if it weren’t for the room parents organizing this. It is such a busy time of year, and it is easy to forget a little thank-you for everyone in your child’s life.

However, this group gift, while thoughtful usually quite generous, and very appreciated, seems to have become so impersonal! The teacher will receive a gift or gift basket or set of gift cards that she very much deserves. She won’t know which gift came from which child, though. The card that comes with the gift will be exactly like her class roster… all the kids’ names. It is generous and thoughtful, and I understand the reason for the rules, and I want to contribute. But I also want to do something more.

My youngest son is in fourth grade. His teacher is the only teacher, so far, who has had all three of my children in her class over the years. She is amazing. I have requested that she teach my second and third children, after seeing what she did when my first child was in her class. The other day I was volunteering in my son’s classroom, and the teacher mentioned that she had had a bad day recently. She said that when she’s having bad day, she gets out the letter that I wrote for her, five years ago, when my first child was finishing fourth grade in her class. She said she likes to re-read it whenever she needs a pick-me-up.

I had almost forgotten that I wrote the letter. My daughter switched schools between third and fourth grade, and she entered her new school nervous, timid, shy, and reluctant. Her teacher was one of those amazing people, who understood my daughter right away. She saw her strengths, she knew how to develop her weak areas, she made my daughter feel like she fit in before the first week was over. By the end of the year, my daughter was feeling confident, had great friends, had learned tons about writing, math, and all the other subjects. So, I wrote her a letter to say all that. I can’t remember any more what the exact details were, but it was more or less to thank her specifically for all the things she had done for my daughter and by extension, for our family, during that school year. The teacher had appreciated the letter so much that she has saved it for five years and still pulls it out to read now and then.

There are so many things that our children’s teachers do for them.

They teach the subject matter. (That’s their job description.)

They teach children to learn to get along, follow rules, and cooperate. (That’s for their own sanity as much as anything else). 

But there is so much else that a teacher does in the course of a school year:

They wipe noses, wipe faces, tie shoes, and apply bandaids. (And plenty of TLC along with all of that). They take your child’s temperature, and even occasionally check for lice.

They counsel children who are having a sad or angry day. They usually know what is going on at home, and understand why the children might be upset, and how to help. They teach the children how to be good citizens, how to have good sportsmanship, and how to be fair. They also have to teach children that sometimes life isn’t fair, and that might be the hardest part of all.

They help us, as parents, to understand our own children better. They see a different side of our children than we see, and they help us to see it too. They give us parents perspective.

They help our children not only learn the topics, but they also help our children learn how to learn. They learn how to question, to explore, to wonder, to test, to think. They learn how to check their own work, to try again and again, to fight frustration and persevere.

Teachers spend countless hours outside of the school day. They plan lessons, review student progress, and think about what is going on in their classroom. They review what is working and what isn’t. They think about what the children aren’t quite getting, and what other ways they can try teaching it differently. They spend their time at the teacher supply store, the dollar store, and the grocery store, purchasing things you never thought of as educational tools. (Not to mention the money they spend). They spend time in faculty meetings, at conferences, and in classes. They spend their time on Pinterest and teacher forums, learning from each other and sharing with each other, because they know that together we can all do more than we can alone. And then they teach the children that they can do more together than they can do alone.

They answer to: the school principal or director, the parents, the children, and the requirements of the state standards. If they are in public school, they also answer to the superintendent, their team leader, their assistant principal.

They manage to interrupt their own lessons to get the children to assemblies, performances, picture day, PE, and extra curricular classes. They do so without a grimace or a sigh, because they support the development of the whole child, even though the part they are currently developing might be having to take a back seat. Again. 

They watch for signs of abuse and report anything that concerns them, but at the same time they try to make sure they are not prying into family matters, or pre-judging a child based on his home, or being biased.

Teachers help children catch up when they have been sick, or on vacation, or took a family day at Disneyland. They help the children make sure they aren’t behind, but they try to make sure they don’t feel stress about catching up.

They teach the parents. They help the parents understand children and appropriate developmental stages. They give advice and direction. They help parents who need help in raising their children.

For all of this, the teachers don’t really get paid much. They certainly don’t get paid what they deserve! And they are rarely appreciated in a way that is commensurate with what they give us and our children.

So let’s change that. I know we can’t pay our teachers a better salary on our own. (I wish we could). But what we can do is appreciate these people who have willingly taken a job in this field where the requirements are so hard and the pay so little.

Think honestly about what your child’s teacher has done for your child this year. Write them a very heartfelt letter. Let them know that you do see the things they do every day. Thank the teacher for all of their work. If they are in elementary school, send a copy of the letter to the principal as well. And if your child is in junior high or high school, be sure that you don’t forget those teachers. They are working just as hard, and they are often the most forgotten.

And when the room mom sends out that request for a gift contribution? Throw a little something in there too. Your teacher will likely spend it on school supplies, but she really deserves to treat herself.

Tonight I will sit down and write a note to each of my children’s teachers. The fourth-grade teacher will be getting a third letter from me, but somehow I don’t think she minds. The letter to the sixth grade teacher, who is running around like crazy getting ready for promotion, will be easy to write. And then there will be six more letters, to all of the high school teachers. Those will be a bit harder to do, because I don’t know them as well. But I have plenty to thank them for.

And so I challenge you: Write a heartfelt note to the teachers you appreciate. They might just save it in a special place for 5 years or more. It will mean more to them than you realize.

Just Be

Dear Parents,

My mom told me a story the other day. She said my (adult) brother was heading out on his bike with her grandchild in the baby seat, and as they were leaving she said “Have fun and be careful!” My brother, true-to-form, replied sarcastically “Thanks for reminding me. I can’t ever remember if I am supposed to be careful or not be careful.”

In other words, of course he will be careful! He has his most precious person, his own two-year-old son, on the bike (not to mention that he himself would rather not crash and get injured).

That made me think about how often I tell my own kids to be careful. When they want to head out on their bikes, when they climb a tree, when they want to walk around the corner to a friend’s house. It’s so hard not to say! I do want them to be careful! I find myself saying it to my kids all the time.

But the point I am trying to make, albeit in a less sarcastic way than my little brother, is that of course they will be careful. For one thing, nobody does something risky with out being cautious. It goes completely against human nature to try to get hurt. Whether it is crossing a street or trying to balance on a small ledge or going skiing, we want to be safel.

I know! I know! Kids forget to be careful sometimes! What will they do if we don’t remind them? I watched with a lump in my throat and panic in every cell of my body as my own children have run across a street without looking for cars. I have watched my son run and jump off a cliff into a creek with complete abandon. I know they need guidance and they need to be taught what dangers there are, and how to avoid accidents. They are kids, and kids are impulsive and not forward-thinking, at best.

But the words “Be careful!” don’t help. For one thing, we say it so often that it has become part of the white noise of our children’s lives. The words have become almost completely meaningless to our kids.

For another thing, we say it way too often. We tell kids to be careful when they don’t need to be. I have heard parents tell their kids “Be careful! Don’t run! You might fall.” What!? Kids are meant to run. They are built to run. As a matter of fact, I often wistfully note the fact that kids just run everywhere they go. I wish I had that energy ad stamina! If you can’t spend your childhood running, when will you? I admit, it’s true. They might fall (and learn a little about balance while they’re at it). And that’s okay.

And finally, “Be careful!” is such an incomplete statement. What do we mean when we say it? Sometimes we mean “Look out for cars before you enter the street.” Other times we mean “Don’t climb onto any branches that are too unstable to hold your weight.” Or “Don’t forget to make sure you are balanced before you let go.” We might mean “Look at where you are going to land before you jump, and make sure it is clear.” Or “Before you cut those carrots, make sure your fingers are out of the way.”

All of those statements are much clearer and more meaningful than “Be careful!” They give specific instructions on how to be careful.

But let’s take it a step further. What if, instead of saying “Don’t climb on any branches that are too small to hold you up!” we said “What do you think would happen if a branch was so small that it couldn’t hold you?” or “How strong do you think those skinny branches are?”

Instead of saying “Watch out for friends before you jump into the pool!” we could say “What would happen if you landed on your friend?” Or “It would sure hurt you and your friend if you jumped in right on top of him!” Instead of saying “Be sure that you don’t cut your fingers!” we could say “That knife is sharp enough to cut through carrots, so it is also sharp enough to cut your fingers.” This puts the onus onto the child to understand the dangers and the consequences, and to take precautions for himself or herself.

Please note that I am not recommending you let your kids learn the hard way to be cautious and that there are consequences for taking risks. Be watchful, keep them safe. Don’t stop to think of the best way to remind your child cars can hurt him if he’s about to get run over. Get him safe. And don’t think that they can learn to be careful all on their own. They need the adults around them to point out dangers sometimes. Just do it in a way that they hear and understand.

This is all an important part of keeping our kids safe.

But what about when they are already perfectly safe? Let’s talk about those moments where they are playing something completely safe, on solid ground with no nearby dangers.

And let’s take this a step further.

Not only shall we stop saying “Be careful” all the time. Let’s also stop talking at our children all the time. Sometimes it is okay to say nothing at all.

I am guilty of talking too much. Instead of following my child down a path, I would often call her back “Honey! Come see this ladybug!” Or I might point out wildflowers, and then ask her what color they are. Or I might try to get her to line up the sticks she is collecting and then count them with me.

Is there anything wrong with using our surroundings and finding time to teach things in the moment? No. It is good to talk about colors and practice counting, and point out things of interest. Our kids learn so many things that way. We just don’t need to spend all of our time telling our kids things. We need to let them find things to tell us!

My daughter and I might find something else to look at, if we aren’t stopping to check out a ladybug or flowers or sticks. Maybe we missed watching a hummingbird sip nectar while we were looking at the ladybug. Maybe my daughter would have found a grasshopper or a squirrel or even just a rock that she liked. Maybe she would have discovered the ladybug on her own. If I hadn’t suggested counting the sticks, maybe she would have used them to build a fairy house or a campfire or a bear’s den or a spaceship. If I wasn’t pointing out wildflowers, maybe she wouldn’t have seen anything at all that caught her eye, and she would have imagined something instead. I’ll never know what she would have come up with, because I was too busy pointing out things that I saw.

Sometimes, you need to just be. Let the children direct the pace, let them point out the things they see, and let them choose the path. Even if they choose to sit down and stare at the grass. 

We all need to take a little more time to just be.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said “It’s a happy talent to know how to play,” and I worry that we are losing the capacity for that talent when we try to drive our children’s activities. We need to back away sometimes, and let them play. Let them be. Let them choose what to do next, where to focus, what to investigate. They will often surprise us with what they choose to see and do.

I also believe that they are more fully engrossed in the thing that they choose, rather than the things we point out to them. They have an innate curiosity and an intrinsic drive that is leading them to certain things. Those things, that they are most drawn to and interested in, are going to be those things that they best learn and remember.

Even more than the things that they learn from their explorations, is the sense of self that they will develop, the ability to be calm and content, the ability to trust themselves, and to be comfortable in their own skin. If our children don’t start with a strong foundation of who they are, they won’t know who and what they want to be.

So I challenge you:

The next time you are outside playing with your children, engage with them. Look at what they show you, answer their questions, watch them play. Don’t ask them to hurry, or to look at the things that you see. Don’t tell them to be careful. Just be.