A Humble Gift It is the last day of the school year and I stand empty-handed with no gift to give you. It isn't that I haven't tried to think of something thoughtful and kind--quite the contrary. For months, I have combed catalogs, browsed specialty shops and department stores, inquired in novelty shops, and even searched the Internet only to realize that no bauble or trinket or card could express the feelings of a mother's grateful heart for a teacher's loving dedication. How I wish a colorful bundle of fresh wildflowers could reflect the beauty of your way with children--the constant patience and nurturing, the gentle encouragement. A keepsake basket laden with soothing soaps and bath oils would eventually serve only as a common gift were its sturdy, woven walls not filled to overflowing with examples of the individual ways you have touched the lives of your students. Jewelry would be nice, but what can I afford that would not soon tarnish or grow quickly out of style? You deserve the gems of royalty for your perseverance and creativity, your devotion and talent. During the past year, I have given you many gifts, mostly intangible ones. My first gift arrived at the moment the first school bell rang last August, when I placed in you my trust, believing you would teach my child and reserve respect for me as a parent. I added to that my constant and fervent prayers that you would be objective and fair, with the ability to set limitations while offering my child a chance to learn self-control and to soar a bit in the process. I sincerely petitioned that your classroom would be a safe haven for my child to grow and learn, lending itself to the crazy, yet somehow perfect mixture of self-discipline and controlled instruction. I prayed for your health and your happiness, and for your ability to be supplied with the tools necessary to complete your task as teacher, educator and mentor. I offered you my time as often as I could, and my support for your endeavors. Occasionally, I even offered you a challenge when I spoke my mind, sometimes--standing firm, sometimes backing down with a renewed assurance or a " ' %93wait and see" ' %94 attitude. I wish with all my heart that I could put a delicate ribbon on a gaily wrapped package and give you a " ' %93something" ' %94 to express my appreciation and affection. But I have nothing to give you that would surpass the most precious gift I have ever had to offer and which you already so graciously accepted months ago--the one you have held close to your heart, laughed with and probably cried with, applauded and scolded, lifted and encouraged, molded and shaped--my child. And today, as my child returns to my side for the summer, the gift I humbly give to you is found deep within my heart . . . I give you my thanks. Amanda Krug ¬2002. All rights reserved. Reprinted from Chicken Soup for the Teacher's Soul by Jack Canfield and Mark Victor Hansen. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a Excerpted from Chicken Soup for the Teacher's Soul: Stories to Open the Hearts and Rekindle the Spirits of Educators by Jack L. Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.