The Sassy Sandpiper: The Ghost of (Middle School) Christmas Past
By M.R. WILSON, TB Reporter
Perhaps this age-group’s magic can bring forth the muse.
Some of my best Christmas memories are from my days as a middle school teacher at Saint Paul’s School in Clearwater.
Now you might think that seems a little far-fetched, given what we all “know” about middle schoolers. They are the worst age group to teach; hormone-crazed monsters who will turn in homework with pizza stains on it, fall deliberately and repeatedly out of their seats to garner the attention of a cute blonde across the room, lie to their parents and school administrators about the cruel and unusual punishments imposed for doing nothing by their sadistic teachers, and fake a death in the family to avoid detention.
There is no rational explanation for why middle schoolers were my favorite students.
Perhaps it is because those years were some of my most creative. I wrote instructional materials from worksheets to semester projects, to skits, short stories, and plays, often with accompanying artwork. The vast majority of my students were enthusiastic participants. I was lucky enough to teach some exceptional young people, a handful of whom are friends to this very day.
As Winter Break approached, moods turned festive. I wrote funny stuff for my kids—alternative lyrics for holiday songs and poems were my specialty. Here’s a Floridian version of a childhood favorite:
’twas the night before Christmas
and all through the trees,
not an air puff was moving,
there wasn’t a breeze.
The presents were wrapped,
not a bow out of place;
as for that ol’ man Santa,
I ne’er saw his face.
The air, it was muggy,
the humidity high;
those guys in New York State
would be high and dry.
But here on the Suncoast,
in the sun and the sand,
a bit of the white stuff
was much in demand.
Then all of a sudden,
I don’t know from where,
a clatter and flutter
of wings filled the air.
I ran to the back door,
and opened it wide;
I looked up in amazement
and laughed ’til I cried.
For there on the roof top,
not reindeer nor man,
but a sleigh full of goodies
and eight PELICANS!
“On Dipper, on Diver, on Elmer, and Surfer!
Now Coral, now Sandy, now Skyler and Flower!”
And bag after bag they held in their pouch,
dropped them down the chimney;
they fell on my couch.
I stood and I watched and
was left without words
but I’ll always remember
those generous birds.
They took to the air and
were soon out of sight.
“Merry Christmas to all,
and to all a Good Night!”
—MRW, 1987
Columns | The Sassy Sandpiper | Holidays | Clearwater | St. Paul’s School | TB Reporter
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