The Search for Foxy

A stack of hand-drawn cards, a bear, hot cocoa with a mug, a painted bird house, and a handmade “best teacher” certificate. All of these were delivered to Central High School English teacher Ms. Dittmer last semester by an unknown admirer. The closest thing to an identity of this secret gift-giver was the alias “Foxy,” that was used to sign the cards. However, these heartwarming gifts skidded abruptly to an end soon after December without any known reason.

I only became aware of the elusive escapades of Foxy a week before what transpired in the accounts I lay out here today. I overheard whispers of this shadowed figure during a conversation with Ms. Dittmer herself and a few of my peers. My hunger for a good mystery drove me to inquire further. And now, I find myself here; typing away my findings and inching closer and closer to unmasking Foxy once and for all. What you read today will be the first installment of a hopefully complete story.

Wednesday, Mar 30

My hunt for Foxy begins tonight. Now, where to begin? I find myself staring at a blank document, unsure of how to proceed. I start by making a list of what I know:

• The gifts were delivered to Ms. Dittmer last semester by a student named Jonah, from Central’s special education program, and they mysteriously stopped before winter break.

• The handwriting is not recognizable to Ms. Dittmer, which makes it unlikely that it was one of her students.

• According to a tip from a friend, the Art Club may have been painting bird boxes as one of the projects.

• Ms. Dittmer doesn’t pick up her mail herself, the mail gets put in a mailbox in the Main office and delivered to her room by Jonah

Next, I make a list of people I need to question:

• Ms. Dittmer: I needed to find out how much more she knew about all of this

• The faculty at the front desk: To see if they remember anyone (possibly a student) coming in and out of the office repeatedly last semester

• The art teachers: They could confirm the tip about the art club bird boxes and possibly even recognize the art style of the drawings on the cards

• Jonah: He’s responsible for delivering Ms. Dittmer’s mail so he might have spotted who put the gifts in her mailbox. (I have a suspicion that he might be the one behind the gifts).

With my lists comprised, I put to rest my search for the night.

Thursday, Mar 31

The bell rings, and eighth hour, Journalism, is about to begin. The first thing I need to do is speak with Ms. Dittmer. As the bell rings for the second time, I get comfortable on the wooden stool behind her desk and I ask her to start at the very beginning.

Ms. Dittmer’s adventure with Foxy starts at the beginning of last semester in her third hour class. She gets her mail delivered every day during third period by a student in the special education program named Jonah. For the first few weeks of the school year, he would come empty handed and Ms. Dittmer would feign sadness at her lack of mail. “My 3rd hour got really invested in whether or not I would get mail that day.” she explains. “And they would always get really excited whenever I had mail. And it was a couple of weeks of this, of ‘Am I going to get mail 3rd hour?’ not the letters from Foxy.” However, that soon changed when Jonah started arriving with colorfully illustrated cards. First, they were filled with strange short stories, then inspirational quotes, and then pop-outs. “Foxy always included knock knock jokes,” Ms. Dittmer explained. None of the cards revealed anything remotely personal about Ms. Dittmer, something that one of her students might know. Furthermore, the mailboxes are always open while the main office is, and anyone can place things in them without asking permission.

Foxy apparently had some research skills, I thought to myself while eyeing the “Best Teacher of 2021” certificate they had made for Ms. Dittmer, which was plastered with old pictures of Ms. Dittmer. When pressed further, Ms. Dittmer revealed that most of them were from her sophomore years of college and from a social media platform called LOOKBOOK, which was an online community to share outfits and style inspiration. However, any hopes of finding further information from those pictures was quickly squashed with a quick Google search. Those pictures were the first ones to come up when Ms. Dittmer’s name was typed into the search bar.

Finally, the conversation turned to the bird box. During some point in the semester, painted pieces of a bird box began being sent each week with the cards, which never mentioned the extra surprise. “At first I didn’t know what they were.” Ms. Dittmer said. “I assumed they were panels like scrap wood from [Foxy’s] garage, but they came from a birdhouse kit.” If she had to pick a favorite gift, it would have been the bird box because it was such a joy to piece together.

When asked when the gifts stopped coming, Ms. Dittmer revealed that the last ones arrived around December. “Foxy went all out for Christmas time,” she explained. Our cryptic friend had given her a card, Puddles - the stuffed white bear (who is now the mascot for the Chronicle), a hat, some chocolate, and a mug with a hot chocolate package. After that, Foxy seemingly disappeared. After I reconfirmed that the handwriting on the cards didn’t resemble that of any of her students during any of her classes we then parted ways.

After speaking with Ms. Dittmer, I scanned all her Christmas presents, the stuffed bear, the hot cocoa, and Santa mug package draws my eye. I snap pictures of the brand name, the company’s location, and the product’s serial number and barcode, in hopes of doing some more digging and possibly tracing the product back to its location of purchase. Next, I get a pass to the main office to question the faculty there. There’s a slim chance of getting any information at all. I doubt that the faculty would remember every person who came in and out of the office. And my suspicions were correct. As I inquired about any students placing things in Ms. Dittmer’s mailbox, I was only met with uncertainty. No one could recall seeing someone making repeated trips to the teacher mailboxes. So, I left the main office, slightly dejected, but ready to investigate further.

Monday, April 4

Last night, I searched online for potential manufacturers of Puddles and any trace of the hot cocoa and mug package, but still came up inconclusive. This morning, I decide it was high time to go speak with some of the Art teachers. A worry gnaws at me as I trudged down the stairs and to the art hallway. If my inquiries in the art department were fruitless, I would basically be back to square one. I search around a few of the art rooms before finding Ms. Stulpinaite, who was also luckily one of the heads of Central’s Art Club. My heart drums with excitement. If what my friend said was true, she should recognize the bird box and maybe even the cards. My anticipation quickly sinks into disappointment when Ms. Stulpinaite explains that she didn’t recognize any of the art nor knew if the art club had painted bird boxes. Foxy had slipped from my grasps yet again. Ms. Stulpinaite suggests that I send a mass email to all the teachers asking about Foxy, and that might get some answers. “Now I want to know who it is too!” she exclaims.

As I pack up things to leave, I take my mind off of my most recent failure and assess who I had left to question: Jonah, and Ms. Dittmer’s 3rd hour class. After that, it would be back to the drawing board. This chase will come to a close soon, I decided, one way or another. Wherever you’re hiding Foxy, I’ll find you.