Want

Ever since I can remember, I wanted to be a teacher.  The picture of teaching, when it first entered my mind was glitter, comfy stools, and changing a child's life.  I can attest to there being PLENTY of glitter in room 115.  We have lots of comfy stools and I pray daily that I'm doing good; that a child is safe and knows they are loved when they enter our family...I mean room.

My very first year of teaching, I don't think I received a single gift.  Nor, did I need one.  I was teaching in the poorest of districts, in the poorest of schools.  Hand made cards weren't really an option.  What I received was a lot of hugs.  A few, "I love you Miss, you're the best teacher I ever been havin'." And a lot of love.  That year was priceless.  I also received a cow piggy bank, and the cow was wearing red high heels and yes, it was awesome.

🐄

I digress.

Now that I've been in the game a while, I wanted you to know, what I really want. 
It can not be purchased at a store or even online.
You can not use glitter or enough glue. 
It does not require modge podge or laminate paper. 
It's not even a Teacher's Pay Teacher's gift card - though - let's be honest, that'd be cool -  love you. 
It does not come in a box or a bag. 
It is not a plaque like my teacher of the year award. 
Or even crystal like my recognition trophy. 
It is not written in pencil, pen, or marker. 
It is not an email. 
Or a letter. 
It is not nail polish or even felt tip pens...but again, if you already bought those...I mean. ☺☺☺☺

All I want.

What I really, really want.

Is to know.

Yes, just to know.

That while I've taught you.

You have learned.

I want to see you spread glorious kindness to others.

I want to stand in awe of the courage you show.

I want to smile with pride, beam even, at your show of infinite grit.

I want to step back and let you show your leadership skills, because you can.

I want to see you be the miracle I know you are.

You are perfect, just the way you are.

Even when you make mistakes, they are pretty perfect, too.

So, spare me the candle, no seriously, spare it, I have like a million.

And the gift cards, even though that's really nice.

And offer to read a story to a friend.

Or teach a friend a new skill.

Or show compassion in the face of unkindness.

You are the greatest gift I could ever receive.

Just the 18...19 of you, just the way you are.