Teacher Appreciation Week: Thanks, But No Thanks

My daughter sent me a text.

"Public education is the superintendent asking teachers to design and cut thank you cards for Teacher Appreciation Week. Nothing says I appreciate you like 'take away your prep and make your own shit.'"

This required a phone call because though I got the idea of the message, clarity was needed. So, I called. She is a public-school teacher; thus, I was ready for anything: tears, laughter, frustration, or illogical information. Working on the front lines often feels like an emotional rollercoaster forcing teachers to hang on for the next turn but never sure which direction the car will veer. I know because I retired after 34 years riding Steel Vengeance daily.

As she explained the situation, I simply nodded, nonplussed. She helps run the print shop at the high school, and her students were asked by the district office to create thank you card to show their appreciation. With the request to print and cut 650 cards in front of her, my daughter knew it would be a daunting task. There are so many things wrong with this scenario, all of which she shared in a stressed, high pitched voice.

• "Why am I charged with inspiring teachers? I am a teacher!"
• "The students are working on projects, so it will have to be done us." 
• "Can I say no to the superintendent?"
• "There is not time to process a purchase order so how are we going to pay for the resources?" 
• "There is no time in my work day. I will have to cut them at night after my kids go to bed."

I offered the appropriate condolences to soothe her frayed nerves, but then I hung up and vented to my husband. "Once again the teachers carry the load. Will people ever learn that the best way to appreciate a teacher to show kindness!"

Randy, also a retired teacher, responded, "No."

My daughter finished the cards. She was quite proud and hopeful that the positive gesture would place a smile on the faces of her peers. Then she went to a meeting where she was informed that each club was assigned a day the following week to do something kind to show their appreciations for teachers.

I got a phone call.

"Mom! Don't get me wrong. I like the gesture, but we have to use our own club funds and time to make this happen. They said to have the students do something, but we all know they don't accomplish much without the supervisor and that's me. I must use the building charge card and they won't let us send students to the store with that. And because of COVID clubs are functioning this year anyway."

I again made positive noises of support by offering to go shopping with her for the supplies for the popcorn bar on Monday. The weekend was busy with ball games, house cleaning and painting the living room walls. She also spent several hours planning a baby shower for a friend. Sunday night the phone rang. "We forgot about the popcorn bar!"

In a reassuring voice, I chirped, "No problem. Come get me and we will go to the store." After many phone calls, the only place we could find that had large bags of popcorn on the shelf was 30 minutes across town. With calculator in hand, we pulled items off the shelves: a variety of seasoning salts, candy, cups, and bowls.

At the checkout stand, she was asked for the tax ID number. Nobody had mentioned that to her but it was retrieved after two phone calls. When she scanned the charge card to pay, the checker kindly told her they do not take charge.

I have to give my daughter credit. Her eyes welled up, but no tears escaped. After a few more phone calls, the decision was made to put everything back on the shelves and go home. Then the texts began about who could pop some popcorn and how to make the event happen. By this time, it was 8 p.m. Two overworked teachers were planning strategies to bring a little joy to other teachers because somebody declared a holiday. I envisioned them in the kitchen until midnight.

This was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. I took out my charge card and paid the $78.00 for the goodies. I looked into Sue's teary eyes and said, "I support teachers. Now, let's go home."

My behavior did not spring from a desire to be praised, and I am not sharing this story for positive acclamations. All components of my body were ravished by PTSD. I experienced flashbacks, rage, anxiety, cold sweats and felt depression coming over me in waves as I relived numerous similar experiences. It became necessary to gain control.

Teachers are givers. Most value compassion and compromise which places them in the path of the rollercoasters most day instead of in the car enjoying the ride. In this case, the teachers taxed with the job of providing a popcorn bar, such a simple concept of giving, would have felt like failure without a solution. Teachers don't fail. They make things happen.

This is teacher appreciation week. If you want to show appreciation, say thank you.