The bell for 2B Newspaper rang with a softer kind of urgency than usual, probably only because I knew something special was waiting on the other side of the door, but it still felt nice. When I walked into the room, the sharp scent of Mac and cheese was tangled with the sugary smell of cookies, the cinnamon sandwich ones. Desks had stayed the same as they always had been, loose clusters around the room. Near the windows was crowded with Frank’s famous mac and cheese that he brought his freshman year and has now become a “you must bring it” type of situation because it was just so darn good. paper plates, and yummy cookies. It didn’t feel like
school. It felt like a reward.
I had finished my article the night before, and that small victory made my shoulders feel lighter. Deadlines in newspaper class always sit on my back like invisible weights, but today they were finally gone. My goal now was simple: enjoy the party and write elf letters back to the elementary kids who had sent them to us.
“If you’re not done with your article, do that first,” Mrs. Kerrigan said, glancing over her laptop to see who had gotten it done. “If you’re not done, do that before you write elf letters or make your stocking.”
Frank served us all up a small potion of Mac and cheese and I grabbed a cookie or two and slid into a chair next to my friends to write some letters. Spread out across the room, a few students were hunched over their computers, faces tense as they typed. Their keyboards clicked fast and nervously, they knew they needed to have this done but some wrote elf letters instead.
One of the letters I opened had a drawing of a cute little elf that was missing some parts and a kid’s uneven handwriting that said, Dear crumpet, how tall are you. I smiled. Writing back felt like stepping into a softer, kinder world. I wrote carefully, pretending I really was an elf who lived at the North Pole. In my red and green pens I responded with a simple “I am 3 foot 5 inches”, which happened to be the average height of an elf according to Google.
Meanwhile, the tension in the room was still there. After the people who hadn’t written their articles were told to go back to them and leave the elf letters, they began to race against the clock even faster, typing like mad men. Every time someone who wasn’t done with their article looked over at the stocking or the letters, it was like watching someone stare through a window at a warm house while standing out in the cold.
“I’m done!” Isaac finally announced. The room erupted in a few claps. He went over to find himself an elf letter and stocking and relief written all over his face. That was the turning point, the moment when stress turned into celebration.
By the end of class, the table of letters was full, ready to be sent back. The crumbs had been wiped away, and even the last few kids had finished their articles.
That day in 2B Newspaper wasn’t just about the mac and cheese or pretending to be elves. It was about learning that meeting your goals opens the door to moments that feel a little magical, even in a regular high school classroom.
