Many of my former students attended my retirement party, including a boy named Ryo, whom I taught this year,
Ryo came up to me with two six packs of Diet Coke in glass bottles.
“I got you a present,” he said, holding them up for me to see.
“I know you like Diet Coke, so I got you these.” Then he smiled. “But I also know how much you love pranks, so I shook one of them up a lot. Enjoy!”
This is what I will miss most about teaching.
An adult wouldn’t be clever enough to do something like this. Or they’d find it too silly or meaningless or rude. Or they’d be afraid that I might be upset when and if the soda exploded on me.
I loved this gift because it made me feel known, seen, and loved.
This is all I ever need from someone, and Ryo gave it to me beautifully.
I’ve only drunk four of his sodas since that night, and none have exploded. Sadly, almost a week later, the likelihood that the soda will now explode is zero.
It’s too bad. I would’ve loved for his prank to have played out perfectly. But truly, it’s the thought that counts.
