Merry Christmas From Randall

It's been forever and a day since I wrote anything. Not just here, but anywhere. I told my students recently that when I'm not a teacher I'm also a writer but lately that's started to feel less and less honest. I haven't written anything really for myself in the essay/story department for ages. I'll consider this repentance.

'Tis the season for strange student gifts. It's something that I've looked forward to for a long time. One of the benefits of being a teacher, I thought, was an influx of cool Christmas giftage this time of year. I watched as other teacher's desks filled up with gift cards and huge bags full of stuff and lotions they don't need. I would glance in my box as I came and left each day, hoping for some surprise tucked away inside of it. I'd watch students come in, checking for signs of wrapping paper.

I got (almost) no dice. Some (very amazing) students brought in some Diet Coke to help keep me awake during class (bless them.) One student brought in an orange (love oranges). I got a mouse pad (?!) for my computer and a little dragon picture frame with a nice quote in it, but that was about it. For days now I've been thinking 'Alright. Don't be ridiculous. You don't really need your students to give you junk to feel validated as a teacher. You don't need lotion and you don't scrapbook and you don't want to take their money.' But there was a very selfish little pit in my conscience that wanted to puff out a lower lip and say "but I like gift cards!"

Here's the best part of the story, though. All selfishness and wishful thinking aside, one thing did happen that made me laugh. One (female) student brought in some kind of homemade treat that I thoroughly enjoyed yesterday while traveling home when I took a look at the tag attached to said bag of treats. "Merry Christmas From Randall".

Who the heck is Randall?

Ah, the joys of re-gifting.

(I'll just have to build them up big time for my birthday?)