As you know if you read the comments, we informally adopted the beanbag chair project over the weekend; only about a hundred bucks to go. We like to move it move it, etc. Once that’s done, let’s finish off crayons. Kindergarteners without crayons? Surely, you jest. That one doesn’t have much left on it either, though, so we’d better set up playground equipment as a backup. Playground equipment may not seem as mission-critical as math textbooks or pencils, but honestly, kids spend a LOT of their time at school, and if their surroundings have no brightness to them, it’s tough to expect their psyches to fare well.

More generally, I wanted to mention a point about donating to Donors Choose that we haven’t really covered yet, but you’ll see it in a lot of the thank-you notes and in some of the posts that Sarah has gotten from teachers whose projects have been funded.

One of the best reasons to fund projects, and one of the best reasons to put your name to someone’s project, even if it is literally a handful of dollars, is the message you send to the teacher. As much as visitors to these parts tend to revere teachers, it’s important to remember how much time public employees in general and teachers in particular spend listening to people in public life accuse them of everything from ordinariness to incompetence to malfeasance to, in some cases, corruption.

You can hear in the notes that a lot of them feel alone. They may or may not hear much from busy parents; they may or may not feel supported in their communities. For a lot of teachers, I think it’s a daily battle not to become discouraged by slashed funding, salaries that range from modest to pitiful (particularly an issue for young teachers who haven’t had the chance to build their paychecks through seniority), and the general feeling that in an increasingly cynical society that sees community endeavors — particularly if they are government funded — as suspect, their hard work is being rewarded with abandonment of their enterprise.

One of the reasons I love this program is that one at a time, it sends a message to individual teachers that we have their backs. That we do value them, that we do understand, that we do know they need pencils and paper, that we do know they open their own wallets shamefully often, and that we care about their work and their worries. That’s one of the great things about a small donation. A teacher with a project can go to the donor page and see the list of donors, and as great as it is if somebody gives all the money — don’t get me wrong; if you can give a large amount, please do! — it must also be wonderful to see a long list of people who joined together to fund your project.

When you funded the folding tables, for instance, you not only bought the tables, but you said to Ms. G, “Dear Ms. G: We hear you. Signed: Marion, Nancy, Kate, Jennifer, Donna, Nicole, Melissa, Jessica, Debby, Gina, Jennifer, Rebecca, Amy, Jennifer, Cindy, Karen, Peggy, Kristie, Jenny, Jennifer, Jennifer, Karen, Kathy, Melanie, Brenda, Susan, and [Anonymous].” Just as it means something to all of you to picture all those kids sitting there doing their work at the tables you helped them get, I’m sure it means something to her to picture all of you, reading her proposal and “bless her heart”-ing to yourselves and taking out your credit cards because you know she is not a clock-puncher who’s waiting for her pension. She knows you are thinking of her, she knows you are thinking of her kids, and I have to think that maybe it staves off for a few days the sense that nobody is listening.

As Ms. G of the folding tables put it after her project was funded, “You give me the hope that your gift merits.”

So even if the amount you think you can do for the kids with your small donation doesn’t seem significant enough to warrant a donation, remember that your money also buys the communication of your concern to the teacher. It’s not the only way to demonstrate that you care, of course, but it is one way.