I have a Rudolph plaque on my living room wall that my entire 4th grade class signed the year that I moved over the holidays. My tree has a play dough ornament lovingly sculpted and gingerly painted by yours truly with my name puffily written on the back every year from 1983 to 1988.
I love them. I used to take them for granted, but now, I know. Unless, you go to a private Christian school, Christmas is a thing of the past or whatever you make of it at home. It's practically a dirty word at school. My poor principal. She is a good woman. You can just tell. She wants to do a good job. The pressure is on her, just like it is everyone else.
It's funny what issues bring to light that your boss is in the same boat as everyone else: "the don't let me lose my job over something stupid boat." Our principal is FREAKED OUT over Christmas. We can't say, "Merry Christmas" unless a kid or parent says it first. No Santa, no Rudolph, no Christmas trees, and no red and green anything together.
Also, no candy, and especially no candy canes. So, lots of no, no, no, no, no! I'm wondering what horror story she heard that made her paranoid enough to ban Santa. I think it's sad that we can't dive into the holiday spirit the way of yesteryear. I don't need to go out and baptize the kids, but it would be cool to read "The Night Before Christmas" or "The Grinch."
I know that she is just looking out for all of us. I know that there probably is some parent lurking around our campus just dying to pounce on some poor unsuspecting teacher. It makes me breathe a sigh of relief that I held back the other day when counseling a student that I really wanted to witness to. And I'm not an evangelical.
I believe in God and Jesus and the resurrection, but I don't really get all in your business about it. I mean, I barely get myself to church a few times a year, so I'm not one to talk. But on occasion, I do feel compelled to tell a kid that God loves them and will always be there for them. I've managed to say this metaphorically and never directly thus far.
This year I am particularly glad that I've never crossed that fine line between "positive emotional influence" and "spiritual/religious guidance." It's just too scary when you have a little baby who is counting on you to take care of her to risk it. But it feels like a betrayal of my beliefs somehow and I kind of hate myself for that. How do I love the separation of church and state and despise it all at once?
Maybe three or four seasons ago, my sister and I went and did some gift shopping at the mall together just a week or two before Christmas. We had the most difficult time finding a place to park, when finally we spotted a car backing out right in front of us. We put our blinker on "left." The car backed out towards us and another car zipped into our spot. We looked at each other... a mixture of shock, horror, and distain on our faces. We were caught in a mix of traffic standstill and watched as some class A asshole took our spot and began to walk inside the mall.
My sister reached over me and honked the horn. She rolled down the window and climbed halfway out stretching over my body with her arm extended and her middle finger shooting straight up in the air, the rest perfectly coiled at attention.
"Merry Fuckin' Christmas!!!"
The parking offender barely turned his head sideways, but I think he did flinch.
"Yeah!" I said. "Merry Fuckin' Christmas!!!"
Just then, my sis pointed to a spot that was open. A car had just backed out and we had just a split second to pull in before some sucker who was patiently waiting with his blinker on... I looked at my sister. She looked at me.
We parked and giggled the whole way into the mall hoping that nobody keyed our car. I don't think we got the bird, but I didn't look back. I suppose I shouldn't look back now, either. Christmas just ain't what it used to be...
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