I’ve noticed a lot of people talking about pupils giving teachers presents in the news recently. The Guardian says it “creates insecurity in parents and staff”, while Mary Bousted was quoted in the Times as saying “The teachers did not want or expect embarrassingly large presents because they become quite stressful”.

I was intrigued by the list the Times has of some of the “thousands of pounds’ worth of gifts” gifts that teachers had been given, including “a Tiffany bracelet, Mulberry handbag and opera tickets”. Where on earth does this teacher work? The only gifts I’ve ever been given at school are a Snickers bar and half a bottle of Sprite that were left over after a class party.

I know some of the teachers mentioned in this article seem to feel that these gifts are some kind of bribe or put them under pressure to be particularly nice to one child above others. I feel the same way about this as I do about other ‘bonuses’ and ‘incentives’. If people were paid enough to their jobs as well as they could every day, ‘bonuses’, ‘incentives’, or gifts from parents wouldn’t make any difference. If you are already giving 100% every day, only taking a course in management jargon or motivational psuedo-babble will enable you to give any more.

Frank Chalk has a much healthier attitude to present giving. Encouraging competition with present-giving could result in parents feeling uncomfortable, though. I think the logical solution to this is to make end of term gifts compulsory but set a limit, maybe £1000 or so (just so that things don’t get out of hand).

Presents could be given anonymously, too. It would be the perfect solution. Teachers would get loads of nice gifts at the end of term but don’t know who they are from so they can’t be accused of favouritism. Parents would be able to donate generous gifts to teachers as a true expression of gratitude and without it being construed as some kind of bribe or display of socio-economic status.

I bet my Amazon wish list would look great displayed on the new interactive whiteboard in my classroom. I could even use it to show the students how to pre-order an iPad for me.

Today’s image is by Kym McLeod.

So, the ‘top’ Christmas presents from my pupils this year include:

1) A Waitrose Christmas Hamper – amazing present, am eating my way through the mince pies rather well.

2) 35 different coloured pencils….in a High School Musical Tin

3) A set of stamps chronicling the locomotive history of England, address to Mr Wilson. (I have swapped these with Mr Wilson who was given a pink, glittery scarf by the same child. I think he wanted to keep the scarf, actually.)

4) A bottle of wine – I love this child.

5) A book on summer flowers, which had written on the inside cover: “Dearest Mary, lots of love on your birthday, From Auntie Sally.” (Don’t you just love recycled presents.)

Still, it’s the first day of the Christmas holidays and I am full of festive cheer! Happy Christmas readers.

The end of term has come finally. And I am free to wake at midday and consume hot wine all day. It’s been a fairly bearable last few days, actually, showing videos in class, putting up decorations, getting presents from my students – luckily as a man I am always bought wine, preferable to the seriously questionable scarves my female colleagues in the maths department have been blessed with. Yuck.

So, all in all, a fairly inoffensive end of term. Apart from, that is, the horror of the School Christmas Show, for which I somehow got roped into singing Mistletoe and Wine while wearing a pink reindeer costume, a ‘sexy’ santa hat and some Jimmy Mallet specs. A whole world of badness that I would rather forget. I’m not even sure the kids thought it was funny; some of the looks I got as I was leaving this afternoon verged on pity, I think.

It always astounds me that teachers still approach this end of term concert hooha as an opportunity to make their students like and respect them more. Our students will only ever laugh AT us, not with us. Nothing, absolutely nothing, will change this. Certainly not a poorly executed comedy routine from a bunch of overtired teachers. But still they persist in this tragic silliness; with bad costumes, and dated jokes. And, as it does every year, the tumbleweed rolls across the school hall, the kids check their watches and roll their eyes, and we’re still the idiots they always thought we were. Happy Christmas One and All.