There were a lot of things I felt like blogging about today, like how insane it is that teachers in my district are teaching up through the 22nd! Of December! Yes. True. Or the fact that my muse is being quite naughty and distractable, finding things to be interested in other that the work at hand. Or the wonderful book-presents that I bought myself. Or the ridiculously ugly Christmas cards that are left in stores (sorry, had to buy more today....ewww.) Or how my husband got me an early Christmas present of a housecleaning service and somehow, during the dusting, the Lego Millennium Falcon went DOWN. (sob.) Or the easy holiday menus I am thinking up for this year since there will be only a teensy about of prep time this year (see TEACHING THROUGH 22ND!)
But I am not going to blog about any of those things today. Soon, perhaps, but not today.
Today it's time for a little story.
Once not too awfully long ago, there was a school that was able to do big things. Amazingly big things, like putting on epic performances with spectacular, sparkly costumes and huge audiences. Everyone would watch these shows and say "ooh" and "aah". The coolest of the newest technologies abounded, and everything was just so, so shiny. For though the school itself was not wealthy, it did not want for much.
Then hard times hit. Gone were the big budgets and the big shows. Gone where those things that glittered in the light and made folks say, "ooh" and "aah." Gone (or broken) were the newest of the new gadgets. They were replaced by little things. Tiny things. Things people might not even notice unless they looked very closely.
But somehow, the smallness of these new things was no less wonderful than the largeness before, as long as you knew what to look for.
Is a rosebud any less magical than the sun just because it is smaller?
I guess what I am trying to say is that today I watched some kids play the most incredible game with the rattiest-looking-tennis-ball-in-the-world and their baseball caps and it was just so beautiful. They didn't have new, great stuff, but they had fun.
Today I listened to kids sing, not in fancy costumes on a big stage, but in the classroom I passed on my way to kick the temperamental copy machine, and their little, golden voices touched my heart.
I did not end up kicking said machine.
I probably don't need to harp on this, but my wish for you this holiday season is to be open to the smallness of things.
Bigger doesn't mean better. It just means bigger. That's all.