Presents for teachers

The end of each semester always brings about new opportunities to reflect on relationships with students and the effects you've had on each other.  This semester, a student gave me a Christmas present, which is rare enough that it always kind of reminds me -- in a self-deprecating way -- of the heartbreaking end of the film The Browning Version.  This particular present, while unexpected, was certainly much appreciated as a symbolic gesture.  As indicated by her card, this student enjoyed the class and wanted to express those good feelings with a gift.  In return, the gift prompted me to reflect in a more personal way on my students (all of them) as individuals and to think about how they have changed, even if only in small ways, over the semester. As college instructors, we're not always encouraged or expected to connect with our students on this level, since the traditional college model, whether it's appropriate or not, emphasizes rigor and mastery of the complex subject matter, and our students, after all, are increasingly self-reliant adults. I am perhaps not the friendliest guy around, even though I try not to be downright aloof, so when I do inspire this kind of personal connection it's always a bonus that makes me realize some of my efforts to get students to be successful and more confident in their actual abilities have worked.

Browning Version, 1951 version

Gifts like this always remind of the elementary-school tradition that encourages all students to buy their teachers presents for the holidays.  Memories of this tradition are not all-around pleasant. When I was in the second grade, I was roundly humiliated when I gave my teacher, Mrs. Tribble, a white-haired older woman with perfectly straight teeth, a three-pack of Irish Spring bar soap.  Most of the other students had given Mrs. Tribble pretty baubles or affectionately sensible items like little teddy bears or novelty coffee mugs. Most of the other students, it would seem, had some parental guidance and financial assistance in this regard. I seem to remember wandering around Target with a couple of dollars stuffed into my Toughskins jeans, wondering what I could possibly get for a teacher. The soap seemed practical, but I also remember being fond of the jaunty Irish Spring TV commercials, so I'm sure that was a factor. 

The other students laughed uproariously at my measly and inappropriate gift, probably in part because they thought it implied that I thought the teacher needed a bath.  Mrs. Tribble, to her credit, added the soap to her stack of gifts and said with some pride, "I'm going to smell so good."  It's sort of amazing to think about all the strange and unexpected situations that elementary-school teachers have to be ready for.