Christmas Letters

  As a student teacher four years ago, I was blessed beyond measure to be placed with Mrs. Blomquist-- Penny by anyone who knew her. She had been teaching twenty-something years at this Title I school. Over time she has watched it become a tough and impoverished area of Arizona, an area most teachers try not to work at. So I jumped in to her classroom to student teach for a semester. She had already entertained countless other student teachers, and I was to be her last. She never tired of my mistakes and questions though, at least her face didn't reveal it! :) She embraced me.
  Penny is a tall, beautiful red-headed lady who possesses strength and elegance at the same time. She is loud with a big smile and bold voice, and she has a friendly way that welcomes young and old alike, from principal to janitor, from teacher of the year to, well, me. Her sense of humor above all  brings life to the classroom! The first week of school I remember her bringing fake boogers, and pretending to sneeze just to see how the kids would react! She has these trick thumbs that make light seem to bounce from thumb to thumb, and she would whip them out at a moment's notice. For one lesson she brought full scuba gear and persuaded me to don the outfit, of course to make the lesson 'more engaging'. I'm pretty sure it was mainly to give herself a good chuckle. Another time at science camp, she convinced me to stuff my mouth full of marshmellows and yell, "CHUBBY BUNNY!" repeatedly in front of 150 sixth grade students. I have the picture to prove it, and the memory of throwing it up into the trashcan too!
  One of my favorite memories of teaching with her was watching parents come in with big smiles because they had once been her students. The cool thing about it was that these parents were so different from her, and to be honest, I wouldn't have expected them to feel comfortable with Penny. Different skin color, different language, different culture, different religion, difference economic class... and yet they loved her, and I could see that she really loved them.
  Penny moved here from New Zealand as a young single woman, looking to be a teacher. She found this Title I school, and the rest is history! She has since married an American and become fully American herself--- that is, other than her unforgettable New Zealand accent. It sounds something like this,

New Zealand's Accent

 Simply put. She is an incredible teacher.

   I was fortunate to be a recipient of the Rodel Charitable Foundation of Arizona's promising student teacher scholarship. Among other things, it included being placed with a renowned mentor teacher who was working in a Title I [a low-income school that receives government funding] school. This is how I met Penny.

  That semester was one that I think back on in moments when I need strength or encouragement. Little does Penny know how much she has helped me teach. I've never met another teacher like her. She gave me everything she had to offer, she laughed with me when I felt like crying, and she really loved and accepted me in the way that I needed... plus, she disciplined my naughty students when I was at my wits end.
  And, Penny landed me my first teaching job... it was two doors down from her! I spent my first year teaching by modeling her, and going to her in times of confusion. Her shoulder was there to lean on, and her advice was invaluable. Thank you Penny, from the bottom of my heart, for your mentorship and your friendship to a fresh youngin' looking to change the world through teaching. After one year in the Title I school, Arizona  made giant cuts to its education department. I was teaching in the largest district in the state, and they laid off all first year teachers. So I parted ways with Penny, and began teaching in a smaller district, but I think of her often.

--
"Rachel, do your best to design lessons that pull students and parents closer. You would be surprised how little they communicate at home. Some do not even speak the same language as their parents."

   I will always remember this, among other things Penny told me. She gave me the idea for Christmas letters. Each year, about 3 weeks before Christmas break, I send home a private letter to each of my student's parents. It asks the parents to write a detailed letter explaining why their child is a gift to them. It asks them to be specific to what makes their child unique, special, and loved. They seal their letters and send them back to me with their children being none the wiser to it.

   The final day before winter break, I hand out the sealed envelopes as well as some specific directions:
 "Class, I love you very much. Each of you are a gift to me, and I will always cherish this year we have together. But there are some other people who love you with all their hearts too. They are your parents." At this point I hear some groans, kids squirm, and a few smile. I have two parent volunteers in the room, and they give me a look like, are you sure this is really going to work? Mr. LaGravinese is also visiting, and he sits watching quietly to see how this all goes down.

   "Your parents have taken the time to write you a private letter, which I have not read. They wanted to tell you why you are a gift to them, and as you read these, there will be no talking, no sharing of letters, and no noise. You will wait quietly until everyone has finished reading."
   In the front row, one of my students grumpily laid his head down, annoyed with me or another student. When I tried to hand him his letter, he burrowed his head further and ignored it. I continued to call out names, "Here you go Chris", "Here's your special letter Marcie", and so on. Finally all the letters are dispersed, and I announce, "You may quietly open your letter and read what you parent has written to you." There is excitement in the air, and students tear into them like there is gold inside, or better yet, Ipads.

   It's silent for a few minutes, and soon I see grins begin to appear on their faces. Up front I hear sniffing from Shelly, who has many times told me that her parents yell at her, and that's why she snaps at everyone in class. To the left I see AJ's cheeks turn rosy red and his eyes become glassy as he reads. His parent and I email daily to discuss behavior and academic progress. Bradley is sitting in the middle of the room beaming from ear to ear as he finishes his letter, and Travis is shyly wiping his tears over in his desk. The time finally comes to an end, and I ask for any reactions. Immediately hands shoot up, and over and over again students repeat, "I am so surprised my [mom/dad/grandma/aunt] wrote this!" Another student (boy!) said, "It made me cry because I felt so happy reading it." Another said, "My dad is really proud of me." Time was limited, so I had to cut them short and simply reaffirm that they are very valuable to their parents.
  The students began their crafts, and it was then that I noticed the boy up front, the one who had been so grumpy earlier. He had his head down, and he was shaking because he was crying so hard. I knew that he didn't have a mother figure, and it was just him and his dad at home, doing the best they could. This boy has been in trouble every year, and 5th grade has been no exception. I quickly became worried that the letter was mean, or that the dad hadn't written anything. (Since the letters are sealed, I never know what is said between parent and child, unless they share it with me afterward.)
   I knelt down close to him, and whispered, "What's wrong? Was your letter ok?... You know I love you very much!" He peeked up from under his arms, and whispered, "I'm.. just.. so happy my dad wrote this." Then he began to cry again.Shelly brought him tissues, understanding exactly how he felt, as she had just calmed down herself.
   Well, it was over for me. Waterworks! I looked up to see Mr. LaGravinese with tears in his eyes, and one of the mom's grabbed me and said how beautiful this activity was. She had watery eyes, and explained that she was expecting the kids to laugh it off, or throw them away.
   I looked back at the boy up front, and saw him  carefully decorating his letter with glitter glue. He had stopped crying, and was putting the most detailed effort into his letter. It was just one of those moments that would not be forgotten.
   Well, the day ended, and all the kids raced out to begin their two week vacations. I gave my last goodbye hug and turned around to find the boy standing at my desk, trying to use my scissors and string with a bit of frustration. I came up and asked him why he was still here? He handed me his letter, and explained that he was trying to tie the string through the hole he'd made, so that he could hang it on his Christmas tree at home.
We finished it together, and he gave me a big hug, saying, "Thank you Mrs. LaGravinese. Merry Christmas."
Out the door he went, letter in hand.

Today I finally went through all my Christmas cards from students. Some of them came with baked goods, nice candles, or even gift cards. After appreciating their notes, I put them all away... except for one, from the little boy who sits up front. His homemade card read,

"Merry Christmas Mrs. LaGravinese.  Enjoy the flowers and chocolate. I picked them out for you because I know they are your favorite. You will never be forgotten."

   I am really glad to know the letter from his dad is hanging on their tree this season, because that little boy is such a gift. The kind that's really tough to open, with a lot of tape and boxes inside of boxes, to the point that you get kind of frustrated trying to open it-- it makes you wonder, man, why would someone wrap this gift up SO tightly?! It's easy to see those issues wrapping up a child, isn't it? But let's face it, that's us too!
   We're wrapped up tightly with protective walls, hurts, bitterness, anger, fear... you name it, we are a tied up people. But, there is a letter written to us. For we have a God who intends to unwrap all those annoying ribbons and gobs of tape. He has written us his letter of love, and if we will read it, we might begin to grin ourselves, with some tears escaping here and there. For we are loved.

You. are. dearly. loved.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. 

Let 2012 be one of love, loving the author of mankind--God almighty. Loving yourself, for your one-of-a-kind personality, pain-in-the-butt ways and all. And loving others, the way you desire to be loved yourself.

Romans 5: 6-8
⁶ You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. ⁷ Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. ⁸ But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

Man, we are really, truly loved.