Once Upon a Time...

We just observed Halloween a few days ago. 

Halloween is a very big deal in our school.  Yeah, yeah, I know it is going the way of all celebrations in public education.  That is, down the proverbial toilet.  There always seems to be a noisy minority that must be appeased and catered to.  But that reality has not touched our school yet.  We not only corporately observe Halloween as a major holiday, but we celebrate it like you can’t believe.  Now, I am not a big fan of Halloween.  I do not like scary stuff and I hate to subject children to goulish subject matter, but those that were here before me love the day and love making it special for the kids.  Costumes are allowed all day.  Lunch is UNBELIEVABLE.  The cook and her minions decorate the lunchroom elaborately, complete with a fog machine, scary music, and a frightful menu.  That small town, small school mentality is just so refreshing to me.

Did I mention that party days are a total waste of educational effort?  Shhh…. Please don’t tell the principal.  He thinks we actually had a normal instructional day (naïve lamb…).

In my defense, have YOU ever tried to teach Batman, a ninja, a vampire vixen, a cowboy (with real spurs.  Yikes!), a teddy bear, a fairy butterfly, a Musketeer, and superhero–something-with-big-puffy-muscles?  Not an easy task.  So many differentiated needs represented.  Batman, for instance, keeps thinking that the ninja is an arch enemy and is just itching to ZOW! him right in the kisser.  And Mr. Musketeer is absolutely lost without the other two.  Anyway, teaching anything lasting was difficult on that day.

I was a little distracted myself.  I found this great Glinda the Good Witch costume on ebay about a month ago.  Trust me when I say, this is a great dress.  Pink, poufy, sparkly, and yards and yards of netting.  I added a sparkly wand, and POUF, I am ready to find Dorothy and Toto and get them skedaddling right back to Kansas.  I am totally bypassing all that ridiculous traipsing to OZ.  I am putting them on a direct flight – no layovers.

The only problem was my big dress kept getting in the way of trying to navigate around my room and the school building in general.  It kept getting caught on or under whatever got in its way. 

But my students loved it, as did all the elementary, it seemed.  Children from all grades kept popping in at odd times to gawk and ask me to grant wishes.  Of course, I was happy to comply.  My most unusual request was a whispered appeal for “a real chameleon.”  A little challenging, but with the power of the pink, poufy dress behind me, anything is possible.

At lunch, a fifth grade boy suddenly appeared beside me at my table.  He was grinning from ear to ear.  “Mrs. Dahl,” he began.  “Would it be alright if I ate lunch with you today?”  I suppressed a smile.  “Of course.  I would be delighted.”  He either was hoping I would wave that pink, sparkly wand over his head or more likely, eating lunch with the goofy teacher in the pink, poufy dress WAS his wish. 

As the day wore on, I knew that our afternoon was going to be trial.  A party was looming.  A party AND an art project.  What was I thinking?  The Dress was going to be problematic, I feared.  Cupcakes with chocolate frosting and the use of a utility knife for art had me envisioning myself by 3:15 looking like something out of a slasher movie.  This was going to go badly.  I needed to wave that wand over my own head and magically produce a pair of comfy jeans. 

With the clock suddenly dragging its hands around its face, I settled my children in for our story time just after noon recess.  All nine of us absolutely adore this time of day.  We always read whichever Magic Tree House book we happen to be working our way through at the moment and it is an incredibly relaxing and enjoyable time for all of us.  We turn off the overhead fluorescents, turn on our groovy hippie lamp, and each child grabs a stuffed animal or pillow from the basket in our Imagination Station (the former coat closet).

On this day I sat regally amidst the folds of my gigantic dress, leaving a puddle of glitter on the seat below me.  All students were comfortable and anxious to hear of Jack and Annie’s latest escapades.  Eager faces looked up at me and a few hesitant hands reached out shyly to touch my skirt.  “You look like a princess,” one of them ventured.  A soft smile spread across my features.  “I feel like a princess today.”  Their little faces were so adorable at that moment.  Such precious, uninhibited adoration.  Without thought, I began…

“Once upon a time, there was a lady who made a wish.  She wished with all of her heart that she could be a teacher.  Not just any teacher, but a first grade teacher, because she loved children and wanted to teach them how to become good readers...”

As I sat on my throne, all covered in iridescent sparkles and pink netting, I told of waiting for “ever so long” to go back to college, and hoping, always hoping that I would find a job as a teacher in a wonderful school just like this one, teaching first grade children.  They listened in rapt attention, and smiled appreciatively as they realized it was my own self I was talking about.

“I guess wishes come true.” I ended with.  “’Cuz you’re OUR teacher,” they shouted out.  “Yes,” I replied.  “’Because I am your teacher.”

One year ago I was just a bit desperate.  I was five weeks away from wrapping up student teaching, I was also trying to finish up a graduate level course, a children’s literature course, and a horrible, ulcer-inducing, stroke-producing biology course.  I was stressed, and exhausted in ways I had not experienced since my days of bringing new babies home from the hospital.  Finding a job was both the last thing on my mind, and the foremost thing on my mind.  I wanted to teach first grade in this school.  I hoped and prayed it would happen. 

It did.  At the December school board meeting, hiring me as the first grade teacher was approved.  I had a job!  Finishing all required courses and getting that coveted teaching license went down to the wire for me.  I did not have license in hand until three days before second semester began.  NO STRESS THERE!  But obviously, it did all somehow work out.

Now, nearly one year later, I was sitting in a pink, poufy dress, leaving a trail of glitter on everything I touched, and eight precious, priceless faces were beaming at me.  Me, their first grade teacher. 

No wand needed for this wish. 

I guess dreams really do come true…