Category: Letters

A Bundle of Thanks

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters1 Comment

Dear Apple,

Thank you for building a very sturdy Mac Book.  I discovered just how sturdy mine is when I was happily typing away on my couch and a big, black spider crawled across my bare arm.  Naturally I shrieked, jumped up, and inadvertently threw my Mac Book to the floor.  After I’d finished shrieking and doing the heebeejeebee dance, I picked up my computer and was delighted to find it was none the worse for wear.  Job well done, Apple.

Sincerely,

The girl who will try not to throw her computer again

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Dear Terry,

Thank you for shaking out my couch blanket until the monstrous spider revealed itself.  Thanks for only saying once how tiny it really was and for not arguing with me when I insisted it looked much bigger close up.  And thank you for stomping the spider into oblivion.  I was only a little grossed out that you stomped it with your bare foot.  Your chivalry is much appreciated.

Love,

The girl who will try not to be so shrieky

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Dear Spider,

Thank you for crawling on me when I was awake instead of crawling in my mouth when I was asleep.  I’m sorry your trip did not end well.

Cordially,

The girl who is not that sorry

Dear Sore Throat,

On By Alicia McCauleyIn LettersLeave a comment

Dear Sore Throat,

Thank you for arriving in full force today.  Yesterday you were just an aggravating tickle, meaning that I ignored you while I cleaned the house, did laundry, went to a birthday party, ate dinner out, and went to the movies.

But today you will not be ignored.  And while I prefer that you not visit at all, thank you for arriving today, a day when I had nothing on the books.  I bundled up in my bathrobe and sent Terry on an emergency Kleenex run.  I transformed the couch into a Fortress of Sickitude, complete with throat lozenges, blanket, tissue, teddy bear, and sole possession of the remote control.  Then I hunkered down for a day of napping, reading, and watching Sixteen Candles for the infinitillionth time.

Having said that, Sore Throat, I would really appreciate it if you’d pack up and leave today.  Let’s face it, you are not all that helpful when I’m trying to teach a roomful of little ones.

Sincerely,

Alicia, Queen of the Fortress

Eggshells

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters, Teacher Tales2 Comments

Dear Little One,

You are so timid, so fragile, like you are made from hollowed eggshells.  The computer makes you cry.  The bathroom makes you cry.  Talking makes you cry.  You fog up your tiny glasses with rushes of hot tears.  I didn’t even know that was possible.  You dart your eyes away from mine and have never made eye contact.  I think your goal each day is to be invisible.

Our goodbye routine is always a high-five.  Never a hug.  Never a smile.  And when our palms meet, I can’t help but notice yours is trembling.  I think your tiny twig arms tremble like that all the time.

Yesterday, after our standard goodbye high-five, I asked you “Are we ever going to hug?”

You looked at the wall.

“I’ve got a hug waiting for you when you want it.”  I smiled.

“Tomorrow.”, you said, hurrying to the coat rack to retrieve your backpack.  You wear your backpack in front, like a shield, and I wonder what it is you’re protecting yourself from.

Today I thought all day long about how you’d choose to say goodbye.  Would you offer your wavering palm?  Or maybe, just maybe, would you drop your guard enough to let me hug you?

The end of the day arrived and you opened your arms and stretched them toward me.  They were shaking.  Your whole body was shaking.  I hugged you tight and undoubtedly too long.

I let you go and you took a step toward the coat rack.  And then you looked back at me.  You looked me in the eye and said “See you tomorrow, Mrs. McCauley.”

“See you tomorrow.” I replied, unsuccessfully fighting back tears.  Little one, I promise to see you, really see you, every day, especially on days when you are willing yourself into invisibility behind your glasses.

Let go of your fear.  Put down your shield.  I am safe.  I will not break you, sweet little one made of eggshells.  My arms are open to you.  Be brave, little one, brave enough to open yours again.

Love,

Mrs. McCauley

Dear Little One,

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Letters, Teacher Tales4 Comments

Dear Little One,

Today I sat down next to you to see how your writing was going.  You were writing a letter to a friend.  You winked at me and told me you’d put one in my mailbox, too.  Actually, you haven’t learned how to wink yet, but you blinked with purpose and I got your drift.

You stopped writing for a moment, cupped my face with both of your hands and said, “I just love you, Mrs. McCauley.”  And then you hugged my neck.  You smiled and I saw the window where you’d lost your first tooth.  I hugged you and left you to finish your letter.

After school I had to deal with an angry parent.  And then I had to deal with a student who is being untrustworthy.  I left school drained of all joy.

And then I thought of you.

I thought of your little smile, your little hands, and your big heart.  You are the reason I teach, little one.  Thank you for reminding me.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll teach you how to wink.

Love,

Mrs. McCauley

Dear Nike Chalkbot,

On By Alicia McCauleyIn Bike Adventures, Letters2 Comments

Dear Nike Chalkbot,

Thank you for making the Tour de France route the best thing I’ve read all summer.  And that’s saying something because I read some fantastic books.  But you, Mr. Chalkbot, have inspired me.

You gave me a voice during a time of grief.

You told me that I was not alone in my loss.

You helped me rediscover my belief in miracles.

You reminded me that hope is stronger than illness and death.And reminded me that love is strength.

I’ve never known a robot as wise or as filled with compassion.  I hope you find many roads to write on in the future because I love reading what you have to say.  Keep rolling strong, Chalkbot.

Love,

Alicia