The Stockings Are Hung

A few years ago, I was not having a good holiday season. It was the last week of school before vacation, and I was in survival mode, amidst children deserving of their Christmas high energy. It was after lunch, and it was time to read "Polar Express" to the students. Reading after lunch is truly calming to the students, and equally calming to me. I'm always amazed,but privately pleased, that I have students unfamiliar with this heartwarming Christmas story. I love witnessing the thrill of this story. After I'd finished reading, we started talking about our Santa beliefs (always a fascinating conversation with 8 year olds). One student said, "Santa doesn't come to Stratford." He said it so matter-of-factly, no hint of sadness, just stating the facts. I showed complete surprise and disbelieve!! "What?!? What do you mean, Santa doesn't come to Stratford?!" And his response.... "We don't have chimneys."

And my story sprouted.

I told them that Santa knew how to get into all homes, afterall, he was Santa!! He especially has close ties with schools, since they are places where large groups of children congregate. Getting into a classroom is small potatoes for Santa. So, we glittered our names on stockings (need I tell you that the Dollar Store is a Godsend to teachers?!?) and hung them before leaving on our winter break. The children were true believers that Santa would deliver.

Another story sprouted.

I told my students that my father had found a bell on Christmas morning, many years ago. I explained my father's age at my birth, so he would be over 100 years old if he were still alive!!! Wow!!! Stories that happen a long time ago are much more believable! My dad's parents didn't have a lot of money, so toys were out of the question at Christmas.... Christmas was a few gifts, mostly important items like socks, a toothbrush, maybe some hard candy. And, in those days, Santa only gifted the basics.

My story unfolded, as I described my father and his little sister, my aunt, playing outside on Christmas morning. They were playing when something glistened and caught my father's eye. He went to investigate, and discovered this bell on the ground. He and his sister where thrilled, since this was the closest thing to a toy they had. They were sure it was a gift intended especially for them! The bell, just like the bell in the Polar Express, could only be heard by my father and his little sister. His parents were not able to hear the tinkling sound, and they thought it was just a silly piece of metal. But, my father and his sister knew exactly where it had come from.... it was from Santa's sleigh! That was the only explanation! They lived way out in the country, no neighbors, no one had visited their home!

I told my students that when I was about 8 or 9 years old, I heard kids talking on the playground, questioning the existence of Santa. I went home a little sad that day, and asked my dad, "Daddy? Is Santa real?"

He took me into his bedroom and climbed up on a chair to reach something way in the back of his closet. He brought before me, a beautiful box. It was red, with black velvet lining, and wrapped in linen handkerchief was a bell. The bell.

My story grew, right before my needing students. I was on a roll! I looked out at the faces of 8 year olds, who really wanted to know that their teacher believed in Santa. I told them, to this day I have that bell that my father found. And, each year, I ring it for my son, who is now an adult. And each year, we continue to hear it's tinkling sound, and we laugh, clap, and rejoice in our belief!

I told that class that I would bring the bell to school the following day.

When I arrived, I was greeted by anxious students running my way, wanting to know only one thing.... did I bring the bell?! Yes, and we'll ring it in class.

Once in class, I opened the box with careful drama. I gingerly lifted the bell out, and at once, I was surrounded by gasps. I held it up, holding it so the clacker would move at the precise moment I needed the sound. There were smiles, wide eyes, and even a few tentative faces.... I'm sure worried they wouldn't hear the bell. Then, I slowly started to move the bell, until we started to hear the tinkling. "I hear it!!!!" "Do you still hear it, Mrs. Wiens?!" The room exploded in cheers and validation. YES! Santa lives!!! I knew it!!!!

We ran all over the school, from adult to adult. The children would ask, "Do you here this?" Of course! Happy squeals, cartwheels, jumping. Then, one of my students asked me, "Do the deaf students hear the bell?" I answered, "Well, I'm pretty sure they do, but maybe not in the way we do. I think they might hear it in their heart. Let's go see." The Deaf and Hard of Hearing class was outside, and I found Brian, one student who wore a hearing aid, and I knew he had some hearing. One of my students went to him with the bell and rang it. "Do you hear this?" Brian signed, "Yeah, I hear it."

It was a done deal.

So, today, I read the story. I shared the bell. And, for another year, my students lifted my holiday spirit. They believe without question. Their reactions come from a place of purity.

And in my room is a giant letter to Santa. For, he will come to our class while we are on vacation. He will leave toys and goodies in each students' stocking. And in his goodness, he will grant our letter's wish. When my students dig into their stockings on their return to school in January, each of them will delight in the discovery of a single silver bell in the toe of their stocking.

My heart believes.