Teacher Appreciation Week

 

Dear Mrs. Smith:

I wanted to take this time to thank you for the lovely hand picked flower that your daughter brought in to me the other day in honor of Teacher Appreciation Week.  That was so thoughtful of you.

Oh.  Wait a minute.  You didn’t bring me a flower.  My mistake.

Thank you so much for the delicious chocolate you left on my reading table.  I especially loved the one with the coconut filling inside.  Yu-mmy!

Hmm.  Now that I think about it, you didn’t get me chocolates either.

Was it the gift card to Starbucks?

Nope.

Was it the plate of homemade cookies, lovingly prepared by you and your child?

Nope.

Was it the scented lotion with the pretty label on the front?

Nope.

I understand Mrs. Smith.  You are a busy mother of two, and can’t be expected to be bothered with insignificant little things like Teacher Appreciation Week. 

Of course, I did receive that multi-paragraph email last month, filled with delightful suggestions regarding snack time protocols and newsletter font choices.  It was something I made sure to share with my co workers in the staff room.

And then there was that third conference you requested in a one week period because you had “just one more question” regarding the relevance of teaching your five year old daughter, who is “clearly more advanced than her peers,” fundamental math concepts such as addition, subtraction, and counting by 2’s.  While I appreciate your concern, I would like to point out that little Annabelle is still struggling with staying in her seat during our lessons and prefers to wander aimlessly throughout the classroom while sucking on a plastic dinosaur.  Of course, I will keep an open mind in regards to her “genius-like” tendencies, beginning with a full evaluation with our staff psychologist.

Anyhoo, I hope you know just how much I appreciate you and how one-of-a-kind you truly are.

Regards,

Mrs. Dinkle.

P.S.  You are a pain in the $%^%.

P.P.S.  Your daughter is a buck-toothed little brat who smells like stale cheese and has a significant lisp that will haunt her well into adulthood.

P.P.P.S.  Really?  Not even a lousy ding dong or a re-gifted potpourri warmer?  I’m not one for idle threats, Mrs. Smith, so take heed when I say that Annabelle may or may not find herself on class pet duty for the next 12 consecutive weekends.  Let me assure you that our Tokay Gecko is perfectly harmless as long as you don’t make direct eye contact and keep a distance of at least 20 feet.