Yesterday was one of those days. The kind that feels heavy before it even begins and leaves you wondering how you’re going to muster up the energy to do it all again tomorrow. It was hard—at work and at home—and by the end of the day, I felt completely drained.

At school, I spent the better part of my day putting out fires. There were conflicts to manage, and those conversations weren’t quick or easy. I had to speak with the whole class, small groups, individual students, and parents to make sure everyone was on the same page. Two students had exceptionally tough days, which demanded even more of my time and energy. My only prep period was taken up by a meeting, and to top it off, I had recess duty. By the time I walked out of the school building, I was running on empty.

But my day wasn’t over. At home, things unraveled quickly. One of my sons, who has his own unique needs, had a very tough night. Without going into too much detail—because his story isn’t mine to share—I’ll just say that I wasn’t able to give him the help he needed. I ended up calling in reinforcements and dropping him off at my parents’ house for the night.

That realization—that I give my all to 23 other people’s children all day and then sometimes have nothing left for my own—hit me hard. It’s a tough pill to swallow, and in moments like that, it’s easy to feel like I’m failing both as a teacher and as a mother.

But then, last night, I received an email. And it really helped.

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The email was from a parent, thanking me for the way I had handled a challenging situation at school. They shared how their child had come home and talked about the event. What struck me most was this line: “Don’t worry, Mamma and Dada, Mme Annick will take care of it.”

Those words from their child—words that reflected trust, confidence, and safety—meant everything to me. The parents went on to share how grateful they were that their child felt empowered to set boundaries, confident enough to speak up, and safe enough to ask for help. They ended by saying how thrilled they were that their child was blooming and finding their voices at school.

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I reread that email a few times, letting the words sink in. On a day when I felt like I was falling short, this simple note reminded me that my efforts—however imperfect they may feel in the moment—are making a difference. It was a gift I didn’t know I needed.

As we approach the holiday season, I think about how often parents stress over finding the perfect gift for teachers (I’m super guilty of this, too, for my own children’s teachers). While I’ll always appreciate thoughtful tokens, gift cards, or sweet treats, nothing compares to the gift of appreciation. Notes like the one I received last night are pure gold. They remind teachers why we do what we do. They validate the long hours, the tough conversations, and the emotional toll that come with this calling.

If you’re thinking about giving a gift to a teacher this holiday season, consider including a note of appreciation. Share specific examples of the ways they’ve impacted your child. Tell them about the moments you’ve noticed your child growing, learning, or feeling safe. Those words carry more weight than you might realize… and they’re free!

The email I received yesterday reminded me that, despite the hard days and the moments of self-doubt, what I do matters. It reminded me that showing up, even when it’s tough, is enough. And it reminded me that leaning on others when I need help is not a sign of failure but a part of being human.

So, as the season of giving approaches, let’s not underestimate the power of heartfelt words. They don’t just brighten someone’s day—they have the power to lift a weary spirit and remind someone why they matter.

And to the parents who sent me that email: thank you. Your words were a gift I’ll treasure long after the holidays are over.