We made origami Santa finger puppets.
We made origami Christmas trees.
We watched Charlie Brown’s Christmas movie.
What I love most about the celebration of diversity is that it’s giving me permission to celebrate my own heritage in a public school. Like I used to in school when I was kid: making ornaments in Art class to hang on the Christmas tree in the gym while we paraded in singing “Oh Come, All Ye Faithful.”
Alas, I digress.
On Friday, our former principal had a wonderful Christmas party at her home. She made homemade Italian meatballs, had Italian beef sandwiches, and lots of wonderful Chianti. She’d lit a fire in the fireplace, candles on the coffee table, and put music on the Bose. She showed me every ornament on her tree, remembering each child who’d given it to her. (Amazing! I was truly touched by her appreciation; I thought most principals throw out the ornaments they are given.)
Unfortunately, my Christmas glow was not to last.
When I returned to school on Monday, those who hadn’t been invited were livid. Are livid. In fact, many are not speaking to me. Because I attended a party to which I was invited, but they weren’t.
Does this make any sense to you? If I wasn’t so tired of it all, I’d be laughing, because it’s so absolutely ridiculous. In a year or so, when I look back at my journals, I’m sure I’ll be laughing. But, right now? I’m a little annoyed at being dumped on after being ignored in a passive aggressive manner for 48 hours by our school secretary and one of my team members.
So, making spirits bright? Yeah, that was another holiday.