Our Christmas vacation started a little early. Tecwil is back in the news, and, as usual, it's not for anything good. School was supposed to end next week, but the last few days have been cancelled.
The last day was not much fun for teachers, though the kids seemed to be enjoying themselves. Take the regular baseline squirreliness that we deal with every day and add excitement over the 7th and 8th grade Christmas party and liberal doses of fear and panic due to the local news, mixed with rumors, and you have a bunch of unmanageable kids. Oh, and let's not forget that it was also picture day.
I got to accompany the 8th graders to their photo opportunity. The boys headed directly to the designated room as soon as the call came, but the girls all rushed to the bathroom. One had forgotten her comb, which was an emergency, but she was able to do something about it. I'm not sure where she got a comb, but she showed up looking very groomed.
The girls sought beauty, but the boys sought fierceness. Apparently the goal was to look as dangerous as possible. You wanted to peer out of the yearbook with an expression that said, "Watch out for me. I'm about to go for you with a knife." But what I love about middle schoolers is that just beneath that scary exterior is a little kid. So it just took one little comment to make them giggle and produce beautiful smiles from the scowls.
The new touch on picture day is that it's done with a digital camera now, so the kids rush over to the photographer and check out the results immediately. It's a matter of huge importance that this be a good picture. Most seemed fairly satisfied, or at least satisfied enough that they didn't demand a retake.
When we got back to the classroom we just had a few minutes left, so I put on some Christmas music and the kids danced around the room. One gallant young man, apparently imagining that due to my advanced age I have a history of ballroom dancing, kept offering to dance with me. Little does he know of my evangelical childhood where dancing was forbidden, thus rendering me recreationally challenged in my adulthood. I told him I didn't know how to dance. He offered to teach me, but I declined.
After school we had our party, the culmination of the Secret Santa week. The kids got a chance to guess who had been giving them surprises - or not - the whole week. Practically everyone knew the answer, but a few had to guess several times. After all the gifts were opened (quite a few to be sneered over), we had some snacks and then the kids rushed off, eager to be home early to avoid trouble in the streets.
"Merry Christmas," I told them as they left, and then added, "Stay safe. See you in January."
2 hours ago
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