Teacher Appreciation — A Love Letter (with Snacks and Sarcasm)
- liveinconfidence
- May 7
- 5 min read
Updated: Jul 9
Let’s take a moment to bow down to the unsung heroes of the world: teachers.
Yes, those magical unicorns who can teach fractions while breaking up a pencil fight, explain Shakespeare to a room full of eye-rolling middle schoolers, and somehow keep their cool when a student insists that “mitochondria is a kind of pasta.”
And I say this not as a casual admirer from the sidelines — oh no. I’m in the trenches with you. I am a teacher. Which means I, too, have survived spirit week, faculty meetings that could’ve been emails, and the ancient copier that jams when Mercury is in retrograde.
You Think You’re Tired? Try Teaching a 3-Prong Thesis Statement on a Friday Afternoon.
By Friday, we’re all running on caffeine, hope, and whatever’s left of the classroom candy stash. Now add the task of teaching 13-year-olds how to craft a clear, focused, three-prong thesis statement — and you’ve basically entered the ninth circle of academic hell.
Half the class is still arguing over what a "prong" is, one kid thinks a thesis is a Greek god, and another student has written, “In this essay I will talk about stuff.”
And honestly? Same, kid. Same.
But somehow, we power through — red pens flying, metaphors stretching, and at least three dramatic sighs later — because if we don’t teach them how to write a proper thesis, who will?
(Answer: Nobody. It’s always us.)
Supplies? We Don’t Need Supplies. We Have Vibes.
In what other profession do you spend your own money to buy 45 glue sticks, three boxes of tissues, and 72 perfectly sharpened pencils, only for them to vanish within three days like you accidentally summoned a classroom poltergeist?
Seriously — are the kids eating the glue sticks? Are the pencils running off to start new lives? Is there a black market for Ticonderoga's we don’t know about?
But we adapt. Because teachers are resourceful. Give us a paper towel roll, a half-dried Expo marker, and the raw energy of sheer desperation, and we’ll whip up a full-blown interactive lesson plan with cross-curricular objectives and a PowerPoint that only crashes twice.
Forget Pinterest. Teachers are the original DIY masters — with a glue gun in one hand and their last shred of sanity in the other.
Appreciating Teachers: Beyond the Mug That Says “#1 Educator”
Listen, we love your mugs. (Our cabinets are full of them. We’re starting to stack them like Jenga.) But if you really want to appreciate a teacher, give us something we can actually use: coffee gift cards, wine, or a sub plan already written by someone else. Or just a full lunch period without someone knocking on the door asking, “Do you have any tape?”
Mostly, just say thank you. And mean it. Even if we look like we’ve aged 12 years since September.
The Real MVPs
In all semi-seriousness, I’m incredibly proud to work alongside my fellow teachers — the ones who show up day after day, fueled by caffeine, compassion, and the tiniest glimmer of hope that today might be the day everyone remembers to put their name on their paper.
We do this job not for the fame (LOL) or the fortune (double LOL), but because it matters. Because kids matter. Because even when it’s hard — and let’s be honest, it’s always at least mildly hard — we believe in what we do.
So here’s to us, my fellow classroom warriors:
May your copy jobs not be stolen.
May your admin never walk in during the chaotic 3.5 minutes your lesson plan went off the rails.
And may your students someday remember you fondly… or at least spell your name right on the thank-you card.
The 47 Roles Every Teacher Secretly (and Not-So-Secretly) Plays. (There are more, but you get it)
Educator – Obviously. But only between fire drills and “Can I go to the bathroom?” interruptions.
Therapist – “Tell me more about why your hamster’s emotional state is why you couldn’t do your math homework.”
Nurse – Specializing in paper cuts, mystery sniffles, and the occasional rogue nosebleed.
Janitor – Glitter. Everywhere. Forever.
Interior Designer – Welcome to Room 204, where Target Dollar Spot meets Pinterest panic.
Event Planner – Field trip? Pep rally? Tuesday? We’re planning something.
Private Investigator – “So… who really stole the mechanical pencil?”
Referee – “Back away from each other and put the dodgeballs down slowly.”
Tech Support – “Did you try turning it off and on again?” (Talking to the Chromebook and the student.)
Librarian – Because clearly the school’s 6th-grade romance novel collection needs your personal management.
Snack Dispenser – Granola bars in the drawer. Lifesaver status: confirmed.
Fashion Consultant – “Your shirt is on backwards. And inside out. Let’s fix that.”
Weather Reporter – “Yes, we will still have recess. No, 72 degrees is not ‘too hot to function.’”
Speech Coach – “Let’s try saying that again… with kindness… and fewer insults.”
DJ – Playlist for silent work time: lo-fi beats and a prayer for focus.
Timekeeper – “You’ve been in the bathroom for 19 minutes. I checked.”
Lawyer – “According to the rules you agreed to five minutes ago…”
Judge – Sentencing for gum chewing: spit it out and no parole.
Zoo Keeper – Especially on Fridays. Around 2:30 p.m.
Meteorologist – “It’s raining. Again. Indoor recess it is. God help us all.”
Furniture Mover – Who needs CrossFit when you’re rearranging 28 desks for the 4th time this month?
Copy Machine Whisperer – “Come on, baby, just one more set. Don’t jam now.”
Data Analyst – Spreadsheets for everything from test scores to how many pencils disappear weekly.
Crisis Negotiator – “Let’s talk about why coloring on your friend’s face wasn’t a good choice.”
Mediator – “So you're mad because she looked at you in a mean tone?”
Comedian – Mostly unintentional. But hey, you made the room laugh.
Photographer – “Smile! This is going on the bulletin board you’ll all ignore.”
Therapist Again – For your coworkers this time.
Translator – Turning teenage mumble into coherent English since forever.
Security Guard – “Stop running. Stop throwing. Stop… whatever that is.”
Motivational Speaker – “You can do it. I believe in you. Also, it’s due in 3 minutes.”
Actor – Pretending you didn’t just cry in your car five minutes ago.
Life Coach – “Yes, deodorant is still necessary. Every. Day.”
Weatherman Again – Because the AC and heater are both broken and you’re in charge of fan direction.
Banker – Lending lunch money you’ll never see again.
Therapist. Again. – Because now you need it.
Comedian (Encore) – Because if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry.
Firefighter – Figuratively. Sometimes literally.
Public Speaker – But your mic will never work.
Magician – Watch me make a lesson out of absolutely nothing.
Lifeguard – For drowning attention spans.
Translator Again – This time translating standards into actual human language.
Parent – “Sweetie, you can’t eat glue. Again.”
Costume Designer – For spirit week, history day, and that time you became a cell.
Social Media Manager – “No phones. Unless I need one to document this bulletin board.”
Stand-up Comic – Because sarcasm is a survival tool.
Actual Human – Who cares deeply, shows up anyway, and somehow keeps going.
So the next time someone says, “Must be nice to have summers off,” please know that somewhere, a teacher’s eye just twitched involuntarily.
To my fellow educators — my clipboard-carrying, coffee-chugging, miracle-working people — I see you. I am you. And I’m proud to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with you in the glitter-covered trenches.
We may be underpaid, overworked, and one Wi-Fi outage away from snapping… but we’re also shaping the future, one lesson (and one missing pencil) at a time.
Happy Teacher Appreciation Week — now go forth and accept your mug with grace, your gift card with joy, and your third cold cup of coffee with dignity.
And maybe, just maybe, someone will refill the copier paper tray for once.
Becky Shaffer
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