‘But, I didn’t do it for the thank you’: Teacher learns important lesson

Remember the lectures about life from our parents growing up? We would slyly roll our eyes and sigh, trying not to openly display our disrespect and end up with a bruised backside? It’s textbook psychology — a little rebellion in our journey toward self-discovery.

Despite my own surge for independence, I did, for the most part, listen to my parents and learn important things like faith, love and benevolence.

Perhaps that’s why I became a teacher. To offer hopeless students a little faith. To show neglected kids a little love. To kindly give wanting children a little of what they need.

But I still have a lot to learn.

Like the lesson I got from a gracious and wise Mrs. Stella.

I once shared about the plight of poverty of three siblings in my classes. She listened with true compassion. Then she sprang into action, requesting clothes sizes, coat sizes, favorite colors, etc. I was amazed. Mrs. Stella didn’t know these kids. She didn’t know about their bubbly personalities despite their dirty clothes and dirty hair. She had never seen their smiles even though they slept three in a room and had barren cupboards. No, she didn’t know these kids, but she wanted to love on them the only way she knew how — by filling basic needs.

So, I sat with the kids and made a list. And in just a few days, Mrs. Stella called me with a rendezvous spot. When I arrived, she unloaded three overflowing, massive gift bags. “Would you deliver these to the kids?” she humbly asked.

I drove to the house with excited expectation. They were going to be thrilled and super grateful! They were going to jump up and down and get excited, and I couldn’t wait to see their reaction.

So, I expectantly watched them open their bulging gift bags. Pajamas, socks, underwear, blankets, candy, coats — it seemed never-ending. Then I noticed something disturbing and was overcome with disappointment. They weren’t jumping up and down and smiling with delight. In fact, one complained about the color of her blanket, another said she didn’t like her socks, and the third just sort of willy-nilly rifled through her bag unimpressed. No cartwheels. No tears of joy. Not even a thank you. Nothing.

I admit. I got angry, and the teacher in me couldn’t be silent. In a non-confrontational voice, I gave them a calm lecture on being gracious recipients of blessings and the proper response when given a gift. But my wise words seemed to go in and out of their ears. I ended my sermon with a request to come by my classroom and sign a thank you card for Mrs. Stella. They never did.

The next time I saw dear Mrs. Stella, she enthusiastically asked for a report. In my disappointment, I reported truthfully. Her response will always be one of the most important lessons I will ever have learned in my life. Without a loss of enthusiasm, she said, “But, I didn’t do it for the thank you.” I refuted and tattled, griped and complained, trying to knock some sense into her, but she just smiled. “It’s not about their hearts. It’s about mine.”

Ponder that penetrating ideal for a bit, and it will alter your entire perspective. It did mine.

Just another reason I am so thankful for quality teachers — the ones inside and outside the classroom.

This story was originally published July 16, 2018 at 2:09 PM.