Tomorrow we say good-bye to my children’s teacher.  Tonight, I stood in the card aisle at the grocery store trying to pick something out that could possibly approach the volume of gratitude that I feel towards her.

How do I say thank you to a woman who helped raise my children for the past 3 years?

There is no card to do that.  I want to let her know all that I appreciated.  However she is not the type of woman who would want the kind of dramatic, over the top sort of thank you I wish to give.  This is part of why I love her so much.  Were I to tell her everything, she would purse her lips, make her eyes big, and say “Jean” as only a woman like her can to say.  And I would know what she meant because she is that kind of teacher.

It’s not necessary but I need to get it out of my system so I’m writing a thank you to her behind her back.

Thank you, Saint Anne, as we liked to call you at home.

Thank you for holding my infant son as he slept because we all knew he couldn’t sleep on his own.

Thank you for telling me over and over “Jean”  during the first year of his life when I was overwhelmed with anxiety over being a mother and he was fine, totally fine as your “Jean” implied.

Thank you for never raising rates on us year after year despite the fact that I had signed a contract that said I understood you would charge more each year.  You said it was because you liked us.  If we started to get on your nerves then we would have to pay more.

Thank you for never reminding me that I owed you a check, even when I was late because it made me more responsible for remembering.

Thank you for teaching my son his colors in one week after a whole summer of me attempting to teach them to him.

Thank you for teaching my son his letter sounds and letter recognition at the same time just like my reading teacher self-hoped you would.

Thank you for the many tricks you taught him about how to put on shoes, a coat, his socks (when he is willing to wear socks).

Thank you for suffering through what I know were some pretty disastrous diaper blow-outs and discreetly sending home the clothes in a grocery bag.

Thank you for keeping your patience when my daughter refused to nap but for 15 minutes week after week.

Thank you for your name being one of the first words my daughter said.

Thank you for holding fast to the silent rule of “don’t tell” when my children experienced a first at your house and I missed it.

Thank you for telling me when my daughter crawled and walked for the first time because I told you “You better tell me this time.”

Thank you for facilitating happy friendships between my children and others you watched.

Thank you for taking all kinds of children into your care over the years.  You were accepting of all children which showed my children how to accept others.

Thank you for telling my children you loved them every day.

Thank you for letting me drive away from your home Tuesday through Thursday with confidence that my children were going to have a great day in a place they were loved.

Thank you for being a strict woman who showed my children boundaries.

Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

Friends who saw you welcome their children into your home tell me that their kids still mention you even now that they are all grown up and in elementary school.  They remember your lessons and the fun they had with you.  My daughter will only be one and my son is three as we check out for the last time from your house.  I know this means that she’ll never remember you and all the hours you spent with her.  My son, for his years he spent with you learning songs, working on his motor skills, learning the calendar and clock, he’ll have only a handful of memories of you.  It makes me sad that they won’t be able to remember you in the way you deserve to be remembered.

I’m so happy that I get to be with my children next year and for many years after that but I am sad that they won’t have you in their lives anymore.  I’m taking a photo of the three of you tomorrow which will elicit a “Jean” from you I’m sure.  I’ll be framing that photo and hanging it up in our new home but that’s not anywhere near how much of you we are taking as we make our move.

When my child says “Amen” at dinner, when my daughter signs to us that she’s hungry (again), when my son introduces himself and politely asks a new child to play with him you’ll be with us.  You’ll be remembered.

We are both teachers and we know that what a child remembers is unpredictable.  We do not wholly determine what meaning they will assign to our presence in their lives once they’ve moved on to another grade or left our care.  But I want you to know, Saint Anne, and all you saints out there, you are appreciated.  Loved.  Your kindness will be remembered by the children you cared for and the parents who confidently entrusted their most precious possessions to you.

Thank you for being that kind of person.  For being that kind of teacher.