One day before Christmas Way Back When I was in first grade, I couldn't wait to get to school. We were going to make clay pots to give our parents for Christmas.

My teacher had dug the clay from the side of the road and taught us how to process and shape it. I was beside myself with excitement as my mother opened the little piece of clay wrapped in newspaper. A simple little bowl that still holds the memories of a special time all thanks to a special teacher.

There is something magical about those classroom Christmases and the handmade gifts and ornaments that are treasures in every parent's home. I have a few very old ones that my children made and some more recent ones made by grandchildren on the memory tree. All thanks to a teacher.

I was lucky to be teaching at the time that we could use our creativity and instincts to make learning fun. There were no overly ambitious pacing guides, and the once-a-year standardized testing was not tied to student promotion. We had never heard of data driven objectives or school report cards. Lesson plan requirement was a once-a-week submission to the principal — and those were mainly used in case of an emergency substitute!

We went into teaching because we felt we had the innate ability to create the environment and enthusiasm for learning. We knew we had the tricks to make students fall in love with whatever we were teaching. I had freedom to integrate studies, and, of course, fine arts was the tool by which we taught every useful thing anyone needed to know. In fact, one time my principal, Andy Schottgen, told me I would be a great teacher if it were not for reading, writing and arithmetic. Somehow, students were learning those essential skills under the guise of every art project, learning game and storytelling. This was never more true than at Christmas.

Classroom Christmases are indeed magical. Unless you have been in a classroom, you have no idea how excited children get to put up and decorate their own tree. I was as excited as the students as we decorated the classroom tree.

I hold those memories dear in my heart, but one always stands out.

One year, I was unsuccessful coming up with a tree for our room and bemoaned to the class that I was trying to find one for us. The next day at my classroom door sat one of my students holding a scraggly shrub he had cut from his front yard. I am not even sure what kind of bush it was, but I know it was beautiful. Every child proudly hung hand-crafted ornaments on the tree, and we had a ceremony pronouncing it the best tree ever. The last day before Christmas, those ornaments went home to adorn family trees, and I imagine many are revived every year.

In today's schools, teachers who make efforts to create classroom Christmas memories deserve a tribute. Christmas PTA programs and art open houses are just a part. This is an extremely busy time for schools: ending a term and posting grades, documenting every method used to teach reading, planning for the new year and on and on. Today, teachers' daily routine is governed by regulations. They do not have nearly the freedom that I had years ago when I was teaching, and yet…

Yet, somehow, teachers are finding time to create lifelong Christmas memories.

My daughter is one of those parents who saved every ornament or decoration made by her three sons throughout the years. She is also a teacher.

Last year, as her last children were in their senior year of high school, she wrote a note to her fellow teachers thanking them, and that inspired me to dedicate a column to classroom Christmases … and the teachers who make them possible. Her note says it all:

I want to show you the most beautiful Christmas Tree in the world. It is made up of paper and glitter that have seen better days and precious faces with missing teeth. It has little handprints that form everything from snowflakes to reindeer and popsicles sticks at their finest. Though they may not be worth much to the world, this tree holds my treasures. I can't look at it without remembering excited feet dancing as I unwrapped the ornament their owner had made at school and watching as he proudly placed it on the tree. Those memories are my treasures ... and they are thanks to a teacher.

So, my sweet friends, I thank you. For all the lessons that you will have to rush through in order to have time to do a craft, thank you. For all the glitter in your hair and hot glue burns, thank you. For all the times you wish you had just one more day … thank you. For all the parents who won't tell you and have no idea how hard it is to get little hands still enough to make their gift … thank you. And from a mom who knows the value of those precious gifts because time goes by too quickly ... from my heart, I thank you.

— Jessica Inlow

My clay pot is now is more than 70 years old. My children's ornaments are half a century old, faded and worn. My treasures may well end up being thrown away … but that is OK. Each of these little pieces of the past is simply representative of the memories that will never be thrown away. And they are magical memories. Thanks to a teacher.