Oh, the comforting monotony of predictable teacher appreciation gestures.
This year, an unannounced tub of melted ice cream planted in the Teacher Lounge. Appreciation or potential terrorism?
This year, no chocolate to be found (unless they hijacked the bowl set up by the financial planner salesmen who were also planted in the Teacher Lounge. . .). Excuse me while I bask in the glow of my post-Teacher Appreciation Day weekend. This reblog is last year’s update. Or downdate, at this point, I guess.
This phenomenon is real. I remember other Teacher Appreciation Days which were marked by breakfasts, scented candles, coffee mugs and the like. Today, there was a three page memo of George Schultz’ musings on teachers, accompanied by a microscopic chocolate treat that one required a miner’s lamp to locate in the mailbox. I, for one, was of course crossing my fingers in the hopes of receiving SOME kind of lengthy memo, so that was a relief. . .
I don’t mean to be ungrateful. I guess that it should be no surprise that our Teacher Appreciation is also linked like an iron vise to our state test scores. If our students were passing, we would perhaps once again return to the glory days of finding a full-size candy bar in our mailboxes. At one point today, I became painfully aware of the contrast between today’s reminders that I am, in…
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