Our school has been in the throes of “Spirit Week.” You know what I’m talking about. The rationale is to jack up morale and give everyone a chance to cut loose a little bit. They are usually held just before tournament time for one sport or another. At our school we don’t let a little thing like not-enough-kids-for-a-team stop us. No sir! We have spirit, yes we do, we have spirit, how ‘bout YOU?! We have to co-op most of our team sports with neighboring schools, but doggonit, we still want to dress like idiots and have a good laugh.
Our menu choices this week have been duct tape day, dress like your favorite staff person day, pick-your-persona day, and fake injury day (it was like a scene from Night of the Living Dead… fake blood dripping from head wounds, black eyes, and crutches stacked in the lunchroom like cord wood). Today wrapped up the festivities with “formal day.” I wore a ball gown and tiara. The 5th and 6th grade substitute teacher asked me where I had gotten a tiara. “I’m not sure,” I told her. “I just found it at the bottom of my dress up box.” She looked at me in shocked amazement. “You just had a tiara lying around your house?” She added, “I have a lot of kooky things lying around my house, but a tiara isn’t one of them.” Yeah, well, most adults don’t have dress-up boxes at the foot of their beds either. Spirit Week at the Dahl house has always been a near spiritual experience. My kids would raid Mom’s stash of out-dated, ugly, garish and just plain hilarious clothes, and ALWAYS put on an impromptu fashion show. Then we would laugh till our sides hurt and do it all again for the next day’s theme.
So when my very first Spirit Week rolled around as a teacher, I knew I would enjoy it as much, (maybe more), than most of the student body. What I failed to consider this morning as I teased my hair into accepting its rhinestone crown was the fact that I had prearranged a walking field trip to the local post office today. Well, the show must go on, as they say.
My first graders spent some serious time this morning putting the finishing touches on their letters to cousins, or grandparents, or aunts/uncles. We had gone through the editing process of writing a formal letter and had carefully copied the revisions from their rough drafts. Now the envelopes were stuffed, sealed, addressed, and ready for a stamp. They were so excited to be mailing real letters! Every five minutes, one boy in particular would remind us that this was “his first letter, ” and he “couldn’t believe he was mailing his first real letter” (it really takes so little to make a kid happy).
My first graders spent some serious time this morning putting the finishing touches on their letters to cousins, or grandparents, or aunts/uncles. We had gone through the editing process of writing a formal letter and had carefully copied the revisions from their rough drafts. Now the envelopes were stuffed, sealed, addressed, and ready for a stamp. They were so excited to be mailing real letters! Every five minutes, one boy in particular would remind us that this was “his first letter, ” and he “couldn’t believe he was mailing his first real letter” (it really takes so little to make a kid happy).
When the appointed time arrived, we donned coats, gloves, and boots, clutched our letters in our little hands, lined up behind Mrs. Dahl, who had gathered her skirt in her hands in order to not drag her gown through the snow and headed down the street to our post office. We must have looked like quite the parade to the casual observer. A middle-aged woman in a ball gown, sporting a tiara like some has-been homecoming queen, and a gaggle of boys behind her waving envelopes in the air. I could hear Mr. Random-Thoughts behind me shouting out warnings to his classmates. “Be on the lookout for raccoons! Be on the lookout for chickens!” I looked behind me just in time to see the wind win a game of tug-and-war with one of the treasured envelopes, and it went sailing into the street, Michelin Man-looking six-year-olds wearing full snow gear in hot pursuit. Thank goodness! It landed in a snow bank and all was saved. We made it to the post office without further incident and were treated to a tour of the facility, bought stamps for both our letters and some for playing post office in our Imagination Center, and then the lady in the gown-and-crown snapped pictures furiously of her Loyal Subjects dropping their precious letters into the outside mailbox.
It wasn’t until we were back in the school that I realized in all the excitement of our tour, I had failed to explain to the post master why I was dressed so curiously. The really funny part is, she never batted an eye about it. Never once asked me or even looked curious about it. Isn’t that funny?? I think it’s hysterical! She must get ball-goers quite often in her little post office.
Now we just hope we will get responses to our letters, because the only thing more fun than mailing a letter is getting one.
I’ll have to start thinking now about what I will be wearing when I pick those letters up.
No comments:
Post a Comment