Year One


I do not know what I expected of my students on my birthday. I was just hoping it meant that they wouldn’t argue with me for the day. I put a countdown on my board, because I’d heard of another teacher doing something similar and I thought it was a cute idea. I did not, in a million years, expect this:

They planned a surprise party for me in my pretend-boyfriend’s (another story for another day) classroom. They had a smorgasbord of sweets, centered around a giant cake that said, “Happy Birthday Ms. Abram.” When I walked in, they yelled surprise, and hit play on a playlist that covered all the hits from Stacy’s Mom to What Makes You Beautiful. After I cut the cake, and turned to enjoy it, two of my favorites slammed their slices all over me. I couldn’t even be mad at them, because they had organized the whole party. They swear it’s a tradition, but I hope they know that just that means that I’ll be shoving cake into their faces when their birthdays roll around next year.

I have the best (or maybe worst?) students in the whole world.


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