Ah, the holiday season. Thanksgiving, Hanukkah (if the extended family is Jewish, which mine is) and Christmas of course. ‘Tis the season to be joyful without reason, or maybe the season needs to be the only reason. Winter weddings approach, time with family flies closer, and the snow has covered the ground so courteously. What could possibly make the next six weeks any better?
Of course, the question is both facetious and rhetorical. There is always something. Always.
This school season has found me overwhelmed with all sorts of emotionalism that hasn’t been seen for the past four years. I love my job, I do truly, but working with at-risk kids does hand out more than its fair share of tough days. One of the kids is clearly on the autistic spectrum, but until he receives a formal diagnosis there is little we can do for him when he has a major tantrum caused by sensory over-stimulation. Several others are simply stubborn and act out for the sole purpose of receiving attention. Theoretically it’s easy to do what is correct and ignore them, but more often than not there’s a communication breakdown and the behavior gets reinforced. Is this all my fault? Of course not. But some days we all walk away feeling responsible.
As for me and my schooling, graduation draws ever near. The last set of classes and student teaching remains, and then I will finally have my BA. This should be treated as a gift. In truth, I’m terrified. I’ve been working towards this degree for eight years now, and in six short months I will finally receive it. This has been a goal for so long that it’s become a part of my identity. By receiving my BA, who I am will change, and that is enough to cause me to have an anxiety attack. It’s not like I’ve dealt well with closure in the past either. The last time I tried to graduate from a program, I ended up so terrified that I backed myself out in failure.
And as for the holiday season itself, dinners with extended family are nothing more than an exercise in political decorum. Everyone save my mother, brother, and I are stuck in the family dynamics of the 1950’s, and so grandma is always right, mother is always wrong unless she agrees with grandma, and good old aunt is the first lieutenant and is trying to recruit me to be her second-in-command. The power vacuum is filled at the expense of degrading my mother, and that I have not been able to abide for quite some time. As a result, I am overtly rude to the aunt (yes, the proper qualifier would have been “my,” but I refuse to claim her when she is so openly hostile). And yet, every holiday season I am repeatedly told to play nice. There’s no need to bring up former hostility. Yes, they were rude, but let’s let bygones be bygones.
And yet, maybe not. Elephants have a long memory after all.
This Thanksgiving, I cannot foretell how I will react to the machinations of my extended family. Will I attempt to defend my mother and brother, both of whom often serve as the scapegoat for all that goes wrong? I’ll try, but success may be out of my hands. Will I be openly rude? Probably not unless the comments are outrageous. But really, will I remain true to myself? I don’t know. Unfortunately my allegiance to peace is still stronger than the one to honesty. Until that changes, it makes for a profoundly tense holiday season.
Ordinary People After All 