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In mid-December of 1972 when I was 10 years old, our local TV weatherman reported during the 10 o’clock news that he had spotted something unusual on the radar screen.  Over the course of the next several days he revealed that he suspected that this strange blip was actually Santa’s sleigh with eight reindeer.     

I remember running to my older sisters screaming, “It’s true! It’s true! There really is a Santa!”  Only to be crushed by their laughter because a 10-year-old shouldn’t have believed in Santa any longer.  I cried and cried.  Partly because my sisters were making fun of me but mostly because I now knew for sure that the whole Santa thing was a ruse. 

Without being overly dramatic, I can still recall the feeling that my childhood was over.  If Santa wasn’t real, than what other myths was I being fed?  What other lies where my parents telling me?

I don’t recall when my own two children stopped believing in Santa.  I think they wanted to keep believing for my sake since I put so much effort into keeping the fantasy gig alive.  Each child had, and continues to have at ages 17 and 20, a chocolate Advent calendar to count the down days before Christmas.  Lists of wishes and wants were written.  Plans to spend time with cousins and friends were made.  I helped the kids put out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk on Christmas Eve before they went to bed, which I later would nibble and sip to make it look as though Santa had sampled the goodies.  I stayed up late into the early morning hours of Christmas Day, wrapping gifts and making Santa footprints coming out of the fireplace with baby powder and a boot stencil.   I really wanted their memories of Christmas to be happy ones.

When our son got to an age where I suspected he had figured out the truth, I coached him to play along to keep the spirit alive for our younger child.  I didn’t want any teasing or laughter at the notion of Santa to occur in my house.

Today I am teaching in a combined first and second grade classroom with a variety of Santa believers and one enlightened Scrooge.  Most of the students are wide-eyed and glowing as we talk about the approaching Christmas holiday.  Talk of lists and sitting on Santa’s lap at the mall are abundant throughout the day. 

Many of the students celebrated St. Nicholas Day on December 6 and came to school that morning all atwitter with their new little treasures left by this early elf.  Scrooge came into the room a bit late and began to mock and jeer the Santa believers by loudly proclaiming that “Santa is not real!” 

I stood still waiting for tears or words of dispute.  How could I gloss over this devastating proclamation by this young meanie and his need to dash the hopes and dreams of his classmates?  But a marvelous thing occurred.  All the students paused, looked at this tiny churl, read him for the ignoramus that he was, and continued on through their candy cane dream world.

It was then that I realized that whether true or not, Santa does really exist even if it is in the open-minded heart of every child nor matter how big or small.  And no Scrooge can ever take that away.

Margaret Andersen is the mother of three teenagers and is a middle school teacher somewhere in the Midwest.  She is a regular ShareWIK.com columnist. For more Margaret Anderson articles, click here. 

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