By Amelia Armstrong

The last box of thank-you cards I bought was $5.99 for 12 cards, including envelopes. Even though e-mail is free, I find it reassuring that for around fifty cents, I can make someone’s day. In our digital age, a paper thank-you card says, “I care enough about you to formulate my thoughts in my head and then write them down in ink.” Ink – something you can’t spell-check or backspace, delete or un-send. Nothing says commitment like ink. In 2008, thank-you cards are little golden nuggets. When I receive one, it is worth more to me than a mailbox full of negotiation back-pay, and every time I do, I realize that I don’t send enough thank-you cards myself.

This December, a small note addressed in tiny letters to ‘Mrs. A’ was left on the piano in my classroom. At first I was nervous. As a music teacher, written correspondence regularly indicates displeasure with choices I’ve made, from sacred music to soloists to musical casting. I was therefore shocked when I opened it to read a detailed thank-you note from a student. Every year in December, one of my junior girls explained, she takes inventory of people who have positively affected her life, and writes them a thank-you note. She thanked me for helping boost her confidence, for extra voice lessons, and for being her teacher. It was one of the most amazing moments of my career. It’s not that my students don’t thank me – it just goes back to the extra time and thought required to write down your thoughts in permanent ink. It inspired me so much that systematically thanking people in my life on a tiny note-card has become one of my missions.

The trouble with diets, confrontations and thank-you cards is always where to begin. In order to brainstorm my list of recipients, I turned to the thank-you notes I have received as a teacher. They are all contained in a special bright yellow file folder in my desk labeled HAPPINESS, in which I store these precious bits of gratitude. Some of them are handwritten cards. Others are drawings, or even parent e-mails that I’ve printed off and filed. I still have a tiny one-by-two-inch Happy Thanksgiving drawing from a student with autism I worked with as a first-year teacher. In the rollercoaster world of a young teacher, I run to this file when I need to remind myself that I’m still affecting kids in a positive way; that someone has noticed all the extra hours I’ve put in on their child’s behalf; or that an outreach performance at the senior center made someone’s day. It’s a reminder that when you are putting most of your time and energy into making a difference, someone is bound to notice when you least expect it.

Mind you, this folder of happiness did not happen overnight. In fact, I’m fairly certain it was pretty sparse until midway through my second year of teaching. Everyone, from parents to students and administrators, tends to give new teachers a grace period before praising or pouncing. It might take time to earn your first genuine thank-you note, but working hard and writing your own thank-yous in the meantime is a great way to get the ball rolling.

Therefore my list of thank-you card recipients will include all of the people who help me do my job in the best way possible. At school, it’s colleagues, custodians, administrators, and secretaries. On the education front, it’s undergraduate professors who paved the way, and cooperating teachers whose tricks I’m still using. It’s the members of the church choir I direct, and the person who schedules me to judge solo and ensemble. It’s my graduate school classmates, and even the editors for OnWEAC! I want these people to know they are appreciated, and to never feel they have a thankless job.

I have always been amazed by the strange circumstances from which thank-yous can emerge. My father taught high school English for 33 years to both college-bound students and those who struggled with language skills. I distinctly remember incidents during my childhood where a middle-aged stranger would approach Dad and say, “Hey Mr. Weber…you were my favorite teacher. Thanks for all you did.” It never failed that we’d walk away, and my dad would say, “That kid failed my class in 1987”! Fifteen years later, that thank-you made it to my dad, and made a huge impression on both of us. It helped to me learn another important thank-you lesson; it’s never too late to say thanks.

Being a young teacher puts us in a unique and precarious position when it comes to job feedback. Other than my yearly evaluation from my administrator, I was finding it difficult in my first years of teaching to gauge how my work was perceived by my students, their parents, and the community. Some teachers may argue that the public’s perception of teachers is a thing we should ignore because they do not understand our work and we cannot change their opinion. Being a high school music educator, most of my work is presented to the public, and if they happen to miss the live presentation, it is broadcast on our local television channel for weeks to follow. I feel very strongly that my position gives me a chance to show the public the positive things that happen in schools. My ability to successfully recruit, retain, and educate students in vocal music largely depends on the public’s perception of my school, my program, and me. In a way, these presentations say to the public, “Thanks for supporting your kids in music,” and nothing starts a dialogue better than a thank you.

So I must continue to thank those around me, and accept thanks from those generous enough to offer it. It’s a vicious circle, this thank-you note project, but frankly, if I get to enjoy my own HAPPINESS file, it is imperative that I help contribute to everyone else’s.

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Posted February 1, 2008