When The Student Teaches The Teacher

My dog, Ross, and I had just returned from a hot, sweaty walk this morning. We were wringing wet and looked like it. I was sitting in the living room checking some things on the internet - both of us trying to cool off - when a car pulled up to the curb. I recognized it as one of my little students....an angel of a girl I shall refer to as Miss O. Out she jumped from the side door of the van, carrying a Ziploc box in her arms. She was all gussied up with black patent shoes, a cute dress and her hair pulled up with a pretty bow...too adorable for words!

"This is a surprise", I thought as I hesitantly realized what I looked like...sweat pants, tank top, hideous hair, no make-up and stinky! She's an artistic, gentle soul who makes me grateful to be her teacher, so I could only imagine what Miss O was up to and I opened the door! There she held in her arms this box - taped up with the words 'to' and 'from' with our names on the top. She had brought me a present. This beautiful child had come to my house with a present for me....

We sat right down on my floor in front of my opened door... Ross happy to lick her ear and face as he is a frequent visitor to my classroom, and he remembered her (my dog knows!) I pulled off the tape here and there and managed to get it opened...and there, inside, were flowers for me. A bouquet of watercolored flowers made from filters and pipe cleaners. Each one carefully crafted by her for her teacher.

I can not adequately express the feeling one gets when a student creates something with their hands and heart for you. Yes, as mothers, we have that experience several times, perhaps, as our children grow through the years. But when a student, whom you have not seen for a month, whom you have not taught, talked with, laughed with or helped for 5 weeks, shows up at your door holding a box of love inside...it causes you to stop...reflect...love back...and give gratitude for your place in this child's heart.

I hugged her. Ross licked her. I had to hold back my tears as I told her I was going to put them in a vase and think of her all summer long. She humbly hugged her sweaty teacher and gave that brown-eyed smile and twinkle - then went back to the car with Mom. I humbly place my bouquet into a mason jar and set it on my dining room table - a place of honor in my home and heart.

Are children not the band-aids for our souls?