There's no point in asking the kids actually to use their brains, because their brains already have left on winter vacation, and they have no return tickets until January. So, we teachers, in our never-ending quest to torture children, usually give assignments like, "Write two paragraphs on what you want for Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/whatever -- and two paragraphs on what you DESERVE for Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/whatever." Or, "Compute the distance from your house to the North Pole -- in miles, kilometers and milligrams."
Naturally, there are some teachers who give actual, grade-able assignments, and even tests this last week, but they are likely to be the brand new, just-out-of-college teachers, with all of their ideas and ideals still intact, and looking so young that some people have asked them for their hall passes nine times this year! ... Not that I ever did that.
Usually, as a drama teacher -- and even while teaching English -- I spent most of this last week telling stories. And I don't care how old the child is (and in some schools, you're liable to find even freshmen who ... well, let's just say they've been shaving longer than you have), no matter how much they protest, they all still love a good story. Based on this premise, I thought I would give you the quick version of what's going on at school in the week before Christmas.
So, fluff up your pillow, turn out the light, lie back -- and say a quiet prayer of thanks that you have already graduated.
'Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the schools,
The students were antsy and acting like fools.
The teachers were sick of enforcing the rules,
The week before Christmas, in all of our schools.
There's holiday artwork that graces the walls,
With cotton ball snow scenes and gingerbread dolls,
And candy canes crunch underfoot in the halls
The week before Christmas is really a ball.
Sometimes, a student will bring something yummy
To give to a teacher who's watching her tummy,
And, this week she'll eat it, cause teachers aren't dummies,
The week before Christmas, we're all very chummy.
And, often, the students give presents quite dear
To teachers they like -- or to teachers they fear,
In hopes that those teachers will pass them this year.
The week before Christmas, the kiss-ups are clear.
The apple-scent lotions, the apple-print sheets,
The apple-charm bracelet so shiny and sweet,
The T-shirt with apples across it is neat,
The week before Christmas is always a treat.
And giving is what it's about, as you know,
So, when for a teacher it's shopping you go,
Remember the gift that will give us a glow:
This week before Christmas, we'd all love some dough!
"Oh, Vicki," I can hear you moaning, "I can't believe you would be so crass as to suggest that your students give you money for Christmas!" And, let me just say, nothing could be further from the truth. I would never suggest such a thing, because, as we all know, Christmas isn't about spending -- or getting -- money, although someone should whisper that to the federal government, which is running around spending more money than presently exists in, like, the universe, and this is somehow supposed to get us OUT of debt, even when they're spending it on things that are, to say the least, INSANE!
Bridges to islands where no one lives. Expansions of airports where two planes fly in per day. Studies of the mating habits of fish so tiny nobody can even tell when they're mating! In fact, for Christmas I think they've decided to use TARP funds to throw a huge party at the White House, where they will serve a bowl of wassail the size of a Hyundai ... as soon as someone figures out what wassail actually is. And, I just wanted to make it crystal clear that I would never, for example, waste any money that, say, a student might give me, on something as stupid as that.
Vicki Wentz is a local writer and speaker, and a Chapel Hill teacher. Readers can contact her at chh@heraldsun.com or c/o The Chapel Hill Herald, 2828 Pickett Road, Durham, NC 27705.
