It is the last day of the school year and I stand empty-handed with no gift to give you.

It isn't that I haven¹'t tried to think of something thoughtful and kind-quite the contrary. For months, I have combed catalogs, browsed² specialty³ shops and department stores, inquired in novelty shops, and even searched the Internet only to realize that no bauble⁴ or trinket or card could express the feelings of a mother's grateful heart for a teacher's loving dedication⁵.

How I wish a colorful bundle of fresh wildflowers could reflect the beauty of your way with children-the constant patience and nurturing⁶, the gentle encouragement. A keepsake basket laden⁷ with soothing⁸ soaps and bath oils would eventually serve only as a common gift were its sturdy, woven walls not filled to overflowing⁹ with examples of the individual ways you have touched the lives of your students.

Jewelry¹⁰ would be nice, but what can I afford that would not soon tarnish¹¹ or grow quickly out of style? You deserve the gems¹² of royalty¹³ for your perseverance¹⁴ and creativity, your devotion and talent.

During the past year, I have given you many gifts, mostly intangible ones.

My first gift arrived at the moment the first school bell rang last August, when I placed in you my trust, believing you would teach my child and reserve respect me as a parent. I added to that my constant and fervent¹⁵ prayers that you would be objective and fair, with the ability to set limitations while offering my child a chance to learn self-control and to soar a bit in the process. I sincerely petitioned that your classroom would be a safe haven for my child to grow and learn, lending itself to the crazy, yet somehow perfect, mixture of self-discipline and controlled instruction. I prayed for your health and your happiness, and for your ability to be supplied with the tools necessary to complete your task as teacher and educator and mentor¹⁶. I offered you my time as often as I could, and my support for your endeavors. Occasionally, I even offered you a challenge when I spoke¹⁷ my mind, sometimes-standing firm, sometimes backing down with a renewed assurance or a "wait and see" attitude.

I wish with all my heart that I could put a delicate ribbon on a gayly wrapped package and give you a "something" to express my appreciation¹⁸ and affection. But I have nothing to give you that would surpass the most precious gift I have ever had to offer and which you already so graciously accepted months ago-the one you have held close to your heart, laughed with and probably cried with, applauded and scolded, lifted and encouraged, molded and shaped-my child.

And today, as my child returns to my side for the summer, the gift I humbly¹⁹ give to you is found deep within my heart . . .

I give you my thanks.