Santa came to my school the other day to eat lunch with the kindergarten class. They borrowed one of my bases-of-operation (I don't have my own classroom, so my materials are hidden in various caches in three or four different buildings around campus) for this event without telling me. I walk in, looking to pick up some books I need for my next class and see Santa. I say hi. The kindergarten kids look over at me, gasp, and shout "HI, MR. CIVIL!!" then run over to hug me and ask me to do magic tricks/juggle for them.
That's right. Surreal as it sounds, in one small corner of the world, a simple reading teacher can rival Santa Claus.
Of course, now I'm paranoid that the man himself has a hit out on me. I keep turning around, expecting to see tinsel-covered piano wire stretched taught between two fur-lined gloves.
I think it's been right around a year, now, since I've written anything outside of school work. I don't know if that's going to change any time soon. I'm starting to feel the muses jabbing at me, again, but I'm not there yet. I don't know.
It's Christmas break, and I'm sitting around in my coat, gloves, and hat because I'm too damn broke to turn on the heat. I can see my breath in my apartment. I swiped a few bags of mint tea from the teacher's lounge before leaving, and I'm sipping that to stay warm, too. Just four more months 'till Spring.