There is glitter on the ceiling! How did that get there? And the walls. And in my hair. And in little Jimmy’s hood. I’ll probably be shaking it out of my clothes until Easter.
Curbing my inner Grinch, I take a deep breath and remind myself that of course there is glitter everywhere - getting everywhere is what glitter does. It will, I think, be weeks before I can look our cleaner in the eyes.
In my classroom, the run-up to Christmas comes with very few angels and a distinct lack of peace on Earth. It’s all too easy to get a wee bit cynical in a primary school, especially at this time of year. We’re all far too busy to be concerned with miracles.
In my classroom, the run-up to Christmas comes with very few angels
Perhaps we’re too worried about finding an alternative outfit for Joseph because his mother wrote in to say that tea towels and dressing gowns are an insensitive depiction of first-century Palestinian culture. Or we’re cringing with fear every time Mary clambers on stage because it’s anyone’s guess whether she’s going to swear, punch a donkey or sing like an angel. Spare a thought, too, for our secondary music colleagues, who have been enduring Hark! The Herald Angels Sing since October.
How anyone maintains any sense of magic in these circumstances is beyond belief.
‘Celebrate the miracles’
There are always moments, though, that have the power to cut through the noise and remind you why you’re here. During my first year of teaching, I remember a day when I had finally exhausted my stock of Christmas spirit. I had run out of patience cajoling the one child who sullenly refused to write a persuasive letter to Father Christmas.
After half an hour of encouraging, wheedling and threatening - begging him to write something, anything - I abandoned hope and left him to stew, turning my attention to the other 24 children in need of help. As the class whirled outside for lunch, I wandered around the classroom collecting the remnants of their writing.
Christmas is a time to pause and do things purely for fun
On the desk of our reluctant writer, I found two full A4 pages of scrawled letter. It was addressed not to Santa, but to the prime minister: an eloquent request to provide schools and sanitation for children around the world who aren’t as lucky as us at Christmas.
Sometimes I think our “try harder, do better” pedagogy is at fault - telling us that every single waking moment must be crammed with engaging and exciting edutainment.
Christmas is a time to pause and celebrate the miracles we’ve seen this year, to do things purely for fun, to throw caution to the wind and break out the glitter. It’s also maybe a time to remember that, occasionally, the things that change the world come from the most unlikely of stables.
Joanna Rose is a P4 teacher in Dundee
