Teacher Gifts

Keep it simple, Sister! 

I'll be quick. I want to get this out to inspire any fellow procrastinators still looking for ideas for an end of the year teacher gift...

Can you imagine the number of coffee mugs & tumblers a teacher might acquire throughout their career?

I'm guilty of giving the old standby. They're cute, easy; stick in a gift card, candy or a note and you're done.

I'm not great at math and pressed for time so I won't break down the coffee mug equation but it could be a lot. 

My newfound enlightenment toward minimalism steers me away from the mugs, even if I linger in the isle admiring the lovely floral monograms and sassy sayings.

I put together a simple offering this year. 

A trial size bag of mineral bath soak that claims to ease aches & pains. My boys teachers deserve to relax! Who knows if they'll like them. Maybe it's not the way they like to unwind. But it's worth a try for under a dollar.

That along with a handwritten note to hold a giftcard for a "treat." All done.

I decided on Strada Caffe for the giftcard. I only recently visited with fellow East Texas Moms Blog contributors and fell in love with the atmosphere and options. 

It's just a lovely spot, far from Target so it's somewhat out of the way... but lovely all the same. They have coffee, tea, craft beer, pastries, savory dishes and more - plenty of options. With so much variety it will be easy for four different women to find something they each enjoy at one place. 

And all I had to do to get the giftcard was make a trip through the drive thru ... Oh, me and drive thrus you guys, that's how we get stuff done!

Why I love it:

-Simple/Consumable 

-Supports Small/Local

If your kids had a great teacher this year, whether or not you do teacher gifts, remember to thank them in the midst of end-of-year chaos. I hear over and over from my teacher friends that handwritten notes of appreciation are their favorite gifts. Simple thanks means a lot.

What I shouldn't be doing on a Friday night

What I shouldn't be doing is watching my 3rd grader flee from his room at bedtime. Face red and tear streaked, he pleads, "Can we please move?!" 

I assume the tough, one-day-will-be-man is afraid of the monster undoubtedly residing in his closet.

I assume on a Friday night I'll be doing closet checks and tucking children in to bed for the umpteenth time.

So I'm stunned when my question to why we need to move is met with a string of nearly indecipherable words that sounded something like, "They always tell me I need plastics surgery. He asks, 'who looks better' and they never say me," he said through tears. "They say I'm ugly and need plastic surgery... that I look worse because I have freckles. They tell me everyday. Different people, they compare us everyday."

It all spilled out, in the hallway, on a Friday night. 
And every foot-dragging, week day morning; every "I hate school, I just don't like it." suddenly made more sense.

I'm sad to say I knew the day he was born we'd tackle this monster. 
When fluorescent lights above the hospital bed gleamed against his copper hair, I knew.
The summer the Texas sun drew out those freckles, I knew it was coming. 

Photo by Capturing Me Photography

Nevermind that he's handsome. 
Nevermind that he's funny, with wit, creative, helpful, an ace on the soccer field. 
Nevermind that he loves Jesus and Michael Jackson. 
He has every Pokémon memorized and will battle Beyblades until dawn if he could - he isn't unlike his peers. 
He isn't like his peers either.


And kids sadly ... many of us, sadly, don't yet realize how beautiful it is to be unique. How boring it would be if we weren't. And what a pity it is if we can't see beauty in what's been fearfully and wonderfully made.

It's by divine design that freckles cascade from the bridge of his nose along his cheeks. It's no fluke that my copper-topped boy has true blue eyes. He is literally one in a million.

Unfortunately this monster can't be taken down in a Friday night. It'll take all of us, determination, consistency and love to conquer this beast but it's one that most definitely needs slaying. It's not imaginary, it's waiting for our children everyday.