My Life with Charlie Brown

The Christmas That Almost Got Stolen

37 The Christmas That Almost Got Stolen i t is probably impossible to discuss holidays and children without talking about school. No matter how much meaning we try to put into holiday ceremonies, children will always look to these times primarily as a reprieve from schoolwork. When I recall my childhood in St. Paul, Minnesota, the memories invariably are memories of school. I was not overfond of the class routines, but I must admit there was always one project that I enjoyed. Just as English class meant the inevitable theme “What I Did on My Summer Vacation,” art class always included a project requiring us to draw our friends engaged in some form of winter activity. Now, in Minnesota this meant that we drew a group of children skating on a pond. This did not mean that any of us had actually experienced such an activity; we were city kids, and very few of us had ever seen a pond that had frozen hard enough to be skated on. But we always tried to depict these scenes, and it was a certainty that every child included a hole in the ice out of which projected a sign that read “Danger.” Most likely we had seen these in comic strips. I noticed that all the kids had trouble drawing those holes in the ice. Somehow they just looked like black spots. My own interest in cartooning led me to discover that by drawing a double line in the ice, one could depict the thickness of that ice. I was very proud when the teacher came around and complimented me on my discovery. 39 The Christmas That Almost Got Stolen This was one of my very few moments of triumph in school. Unfortunately, the memory of a Minnesota Christmas that always comes back to me has to do with another, less-successful project. At the beginning of each December I looked forward to the holidays as happily as any child. I loved the decorations in the downtown shopping areas and I eagerly anticipated the gifts I might receive. But the best part of the holiday was the knowledge that we would have a two-week vacation from school—and how I looked forward to that! Inevitably, however, there always seemed to be one teacher who could not resist darkening the vacation days with a homework assignment, and one particular vacation was spoiled by our having to read Silas Marner. Why couldn’t this be read during the regular school term? Why couldn’t we be allowed to relax for 14 days and read our comic books and our magazines about football and hockey heroes? Silas Marner was pure drudgery. Now, of course, we all know that 14 days, even to a teen-ager, is close to an eternity. There would be no reason at all to begin reading a novel during the first few days of vacation, for wouldn’t the vacation stretch on forever? And then, of course, as the first week disappeared , why would you want to begin reading the novel during the first part of the second week? After all, you had still had seven full days. And then as those days disappeared, one by one, and you drew near the end of the second week, there was still no reason to panic— you had the whole weekend, and anyone who could read reasonably fast could surely read Silas Marner over the weekend. So, of course, there was nothing to worry about. But weekends go very fast, and before you know it, Sunday night has arrived. The book has not been opened and there is no possible way to finish reading it in one evening. The only thing left is to dread Monday morning. Why do teachers have to give such assignments? Why can’t we read books that are more interesting? Why are teachers so unreasonable ? Why do we have to go to school anyway? Why do Christmas 40 My LIfe vacations go by so fast? Why are Monday mornings the worst kind of morning ever created? Oh, how I hated to return to school that day! When was I ever going to learn? The next time we got an assignment like this, I would know better, but it was too late now. I was on my way to school and I was on my way to certain doom. When I walked into English class that...