| Dear Friends and Family, You know, I have forgotten just how much fun snow CAN be . . . sometimes. As I�m slipping and sliding across the slick ground and calling the ice and snow every name in the book (i.e. �creep� and �horrifying, disgraceful excuse for something ordinary�), I never take time to remember when I was young and my brother and I were up to our ankles, I mean our TOES, in the cold white stuff. As I said last winter, little Oracle, AZ. would get a few inches of snow and the entire town would practically shut down, including our school. After all, they couldn�t expect their students to drive in such weather! We would get up early, the white ground would take our breath away, and then we�d quickly assemble the most mismatched ensemble of sweats, hats, gloves, socks, jackets, plastic bags, etc. until we struggled to squeeze through the front door. (�Hey, Aaron, could you give me a push?!!?�) We were like a raucous symphony of desert rats, who thought that �snow� meant that stuff you buy in a can at Christmas time at the local Circle K. Yesterday, I was �enjoying� my free hour from teaching by slipping and sliding to the nearest sandwich stand for �brunch� and then slipping and sliding right back to school. When I approached the school, I noticed that one of my sixth grade classes was involved in a grand snowball fight as they darted, ducked, packed, and tossed in breathless vigor. I grinned evilly as I reminisced about the days of getting clobbered by my brother�s hard-packed snowballs, before tracking an entire front yard of snow into the house to give my mother the pleasure of cleaning up little �Chantel-puddles�. It seemed like I was always crying for a �time out� or for a homemade shield! (�Mo-om! He�s too close when he throws them! Aauugghh! Did you see THAT one?! I think it had a ROCK in it!�) So, with breathless energy, I made my way passed the students as I stripped off my backpack and reached down to take a glove-full of snow. I stealthily crept passed the students, as I went to lay down my bag so that I could blast them with snowballs before they even noticed my entrance into their little game. But, I wasn�t quick enough . . . I approached the school in order to place my bag in a safe haven and their vicious little eyes zoned in on my hand as I filled it with snow. Before I knew it, 10 (or maybe 100!) children with evil glints in their hazy eyes, were creeping towards me . . . for a minute, I wondered if I was being cast in another sequel to, �Children of the Corn .� �Auugghh!� I screamed as I cowered from them. They grinned at me in all of their evil glory, as they packed snow in their menacing claws. �Wait!� I screamed in my most obnoxious Bulgarian. �Wait! Let me put down my bag first!� But, we all know that �Children of the Snow� don�t listen to a word anyone says . . . I was blasted from every direction as my bag went flying! Just then, I remembered the snow clenched in my OWN grimy little paws. But . . . RULE #1 of Snowball Wars: Always pack the snow into a nice, hard little ball before making it airborne. You see, in my excitement, I forgot to do this the first time around and I sent a pathetic little wave of scattered snowflakes sailing into the air, covering the ground and myself more than anyone else. All while the children involved in this little game had decided it�s more fun to blast their teacher than each other! Then, I got smart and I grabbed another handful, this time taking the time to carefully pack it as balls whizzed past my nose. I attempted to get those sniveling children back as I tossed, actually having decent aim once in a blue moon. What can I say--I�m left-handed! �Take THAT!!!� I screeched. �And THAT!� Ahhh, the things you can get away with when you�re a teacher in Bulgaria! I couldn�t make my balls fast enough as the �Children of the Snow� ganged up on me and plotted my demise. And, let me tell you, there�s nothing like getting a snowball slammed into the back of your head, only to have the cold little flakes racing hungrily down the back of your shirt! Students ran from me as I lumbered (and I mean LUMBERED!) after them with fists full of snow; I shook with laughter as snowballs clobbered my sixth graders from all throughout the schoolyard; I was covered in white flakes from my head down to my feet. Ahhh, they joys of being a teacher in Bulgaria! So, I guess the King Freak, the pain in my side, the frightfully godforsaken ingrate, isn�t so bad all of the time . . . just SOME of the time. I mean, I can live without it and I�d RATHER it came in a can from the Circle K, but the beast of burden really CAN provide hours of entertainment . . . even when you aren�t a little kid anymore, eager to smash it in your brother�s face. After I tired of the game and I was chilled to my bones, I collected my stuff and left the �Children of the Snow� to their own demise. I trudged into the school with a wicked grin lighting up my rosy cheeks . . . leaving a little trail of �Chantel-puddles� behind me. BRRRR! Chantel ;-) P.S. The countdown has begun! I�ll be drinking eggnog and eating Mexican food in ONLY TEN DAYS!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?!!? I can�t wait to come home and I hope to either see or talk to every single one of you! |
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