Spirit

Happy Christmas, Christmas people (everyone in my opinion).

This year I taught “A Christmas Carol” to my students. As usual, I was nervous that by teaching a text I loved, I would hate my students or hate the text for ruining my life. This didn’t happen. 

My freshmen generally need me to do some of the reading aloud. It’s something I have missed over the last several years of working in schools that were so dysfunctional I had to be almost 100% focused on classroom management (management, such a word for such a thing that is all triggering and panic, ho ho ho). Also, although I loved teaching ELL, my ELL kids weren’t needing me to read classic texts aloud so much as they were needing me to ask them questions about their favorite fruits.

As I read, I stumbled across all these little joys like chocolate chips: Scrooge’s house being like a house was playing hide and seek, but then got left there forever. 

Is literature, the way people write it, now getting longer and more elaborate as people write episodic television and long fan fiction? Are social media posts longer, now that Twitter is dead (ding dong witch)?

I decided to show the kids “Muppet Christmas Carol” because it is excellent. Maybe also because a former student once told me, “Don’t ever lose the Muppets.”

A couple of my what we in the industry historically called “knuckleheads” became enamored with my performance of “Marley & Marley,” including jazz hands to each side, and then a waving hands “ooooh.” They have come around to laughing with me (barely). They would beg me to do this.

A wonderful colleague set up a secret teacher spirit week. It was much more akin to the spirits in “Christmas Carol,” as it was instructive, and fictions were offered. As the teachers dressed in the same color shirts, dressed as the principal, wore two different shoes, our students noticed and didn’t notice, and this was so much more amusing than supporting a basketball team (you know me). It was highly amusing.

I walked past a classroom and two of my students burst out laughing. I think that was tacky day, which I conquered with sequins, studs, cowboy socks, and a sweatshirt.

My work situation has changed dramatically. Last year, I was constantly steeling myself for criticism and ridiculous demands. This year, several people told me apropos of nothing that they were glad I was there. 

I hate the concept of the “good” teacher, because a teacher is as good as a community enables her to be, but the concept of the “supported” teacher is useful. My patience increases exponentially when others treat me with kindness. 

Teaching is still exhausting. I still had people around me who were living through painful times, cancer, injury, stolen presents from the porch. I argued with my family, which goes quicker and shallower with years of effort, but still happens.

But my presents are bought, and I have days to rest.