A Gift for the Teacher

Keeper of Memories

     Needing to find some things to occupy my time, I started a writing class that meets just up the hill from my apartment. As I have mentioned it is a class on writing memoirs. Although fiction is really what I love to write, I am using this class as a social outlet. At the end of the class last week I loved the childlike action that we all took in whispering from one ear to the next, “Let’s all bring the teacher a Valentine next week. Pass it on.”

     I had to laugh. She was giving us our final instructions as one by one we leaned into the person sitting next to us and did our, “whisper”, all except to her. Hmm, I wonder what part of secret, she didn’t see.

     Nevertheless, it set my mind in action. I have always loved crafts. Even as a small child. My sister and I used every holiday as a time to create something for our parents. (I won’t spoil this post by going into how it was received. If you have been reading previous posts, you already know.) But I do have to inject here, that Mom was always appreciative of her girls’ efforts. I wish I had focused more on her throughout the years instead of my father. I did finally wake up to the fact that she was so much more deserving of love and attention.

     On one occasion we girls decided to take wire coat hangers, open them up and form two round forms with them. One for the head and the other the body. We made ears and stuffed the entire framework with crumpled newspaper. Layers of crape paper in pink and blue and purple covered our huge rabbit. When I think back now to covering it with a sheet for two weeks during its construction and instructing Mom not to peek, I have to laugh. You know she peeked.

     Anyway, on the eve of Easter we snuck it out to the living room, surrounded it with the papier-mâché eggs we made and filled with gifts for our parents. I could hardly sleep for the excitement of them finding them in the morning. Well, Mom's excitement anyway.

     We worked hard on all our projects. I look back now and am amazed at the creativeness and heart we put into each one. I can’t speak for my sister, but every thing my hands worked on a portion of my heart went into it. The whole time I was concentrating on the workmanship I could feel the anticipation of happiness I hoped the person I was making it for would feel in receiving it.

     Learning the hard way over the years that not everyone receives on the same level of excitement has caused me to understand that sometimes all the happiness derived from giving something to some people comes in the personal joy of just making it.

     Although I am sure my teacher will appreciate my Valentine gift, I already have received my own happiness just in the time spent making this plate of memories for her. I love making these decoupage plates. They are so easy and unique to each individual recipient. This one just came together so easily. I found just the right size pictures of Victorian and older objects. The girl in the center was my last minute final touch. I added two small feathers and a tiny bow to her hat. I had to wait (something I am not good at doing.) until the several layers of Mod Podge dried, to add them at the last. It was worth the wait. I think it sets it off just right.

     Regardless of how it is received, I loved making it. I love being creative and watching something I do come together just as I imagine it. I hadn’t had an occasion to make one of these plates in a while so it was happy ‘seat work’ for me. I am sad to see it come to an end. Hopefully another unexpected occasion will come along to make another one. I took a picture of it and am posting it. I am hoping it comes out good.

     I suppose I shouldn’t add this little footnote, but it is something that I will think about when I give this plate away on Tuesday. (I am always telling on myself, wonder why that is?)

     While I work on my projects I usually have a cup of coffee sitting near by that ends up going cold. While doing this project I also had a cup of water that I put my paintbrush in between coats of sealer. Well . . . . . let’s just say, there is a remarkable difference between cold coffee and cold glue water. Just ask me, I did it not once but twice! I am chalking it up to my senior moments.