A Holly by any other name.

First day of work, December 15ish:

Boss: "Hi everyone. This is Coach Holly. Say hi Coach Holly!"
Evil-eyed girl child: "Have a HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS!"

Suddenly, I'm back at Centerville Elementary, sitting at my too-tall desk. I can hear the snot-nosed boy behind me singing "Have a holly jolly Christmas," over and over, like those are the only lyrics he knows.

They probably are.

I'm brought back to the present by the silence around me.

Boss: "Coach Holly, Jessica asked you a question."
Me: "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
Sweet, doe-eyed child: "Is your name Holly because it's Christmas?"

I thought about it. I might have even looked at the ceiling for inspiration.

Me: "Yes. That's exactly why."
All children, in unison: "Cooooooooooool."


Day 2 of work, December 18ish:

I'm minding my own business at the end of class, cleaning up some paperwork when I'm approached by a child, roughly in the 8 - 10 year old category. (I still haven't mastered the skill of guessing their ages.)

Messy haired girl who talked the entire class: "I know why you're named Holly."
Me: "Why." (My lack of question mark indicates my level of interest.)
Girl: "Because it's your Christmas name."
Me: "You got it."
Girl: You know what I'm going to call you when it's spring? Flower. And when it's summer, I'm going to call you Sunshine, and when it's fall I'm going to call you...
....
Leaf."

Me: "OK, sounds good."
Another girl, who had been standing by and listening: "What's your real name?"
Me: "I can't tell you that. It's a secret."
Group of girls who had gathered around me: "Oooooooooooo."

Eat it up, kids. This is only the beginning.

http://www.hzmre.com/holidays/ADVENTtable_html_m27dc4cd9.png

Ankle deep in material

Guess what? I'm back--for real this time--and (for those of you who know me) you're going to love the reason.

1. I got a new job (in addition to my magazine job)
2. It pays 8 dollars an hour
3. It involves working with . . . children.

Now, I am famously (in the six-person circle that I move in) adverse to children. You can try to argue with me about the merits of miniature people, but I'm generally disdainful of poorly behaved ones, and incredibly awkward around all of them.

I try to speak to them like they're adults, which they don't take kindly to, and I'd say one out of four children look at me like I'm a lint-covered monster crawling out from under their bed. That's right before they hide behind their mother's legs and refuse to go near me.

If I try to baby talk them, they look at me like I'm crazy and, again, run.

So it may seem strange, even masochistic to get a job teaching gymnastics to children aged three to fifteen. Not only are there lots of tiny humans involved--they're in various states of misbehavior thanks to big, gushy mats and high bars and hard-edged balance beams. They see the gym equipment and
THEY
GO
CRAZY.

But, it turns out I'm particularly well qualified for this job. I was a competitive gymnast in another life, the daughter of a collegiate gymnast, and the child of two parents who owned/ran a gymnastics gym for much of my middle childhood.

So here I am, surrounded by munchkins. And here you are, getting ready to read blog post after blog post about all the things I wish I could say to my students.

Let the judgment begin.

Thanks, http://www.asklopan.com/pictures/evil_children.jpg for getting it just right on the photo.