December 20th

The last days of class, around five days, were spent preparing for the culmination of their work: Saturnalia. I had explained to them how similar Saturnalia was to their conceptions of Christmas: gift-giving, feasting, revelry, and decoration. I even showed them examples of ancient toys, dice games, and other gifts that were similar to the ones that they were itching to open underneath their own trees. Our Saturnalia party wouldn’t be a celebration of Saturn, but rather a celebration of their learning, growth, and overcoming of obstacles. 

Thus, they would be leading the entire day. 

Their parents were led into the room and welcomed by our emcee. She split the adults into four groups, each a different activity run by a different student. 

The first activity was playing Five Lines, an ancient board game. The students would explain the rules to the adults and then challenge them to a game. 

The second activity was teaching their parents to write their names phonetically in the Greek alphabet, much like their first activity they had with me. Their parents asked the same questions they did about missing letters and sounds, but not to worry, as the little teachers explained how to work based on approximate sounds rather than matching letter to letter. 

The third group braved reading their myths out loud to their parents. I was worried about them just a bit. Sharing your work to an audience with open ears was something I had to brave for the last three months when working with them. However, the claps were loud from these sections, as their smiles beamed in dramatically reading their myths, complete with character voices and sound effects.

And the final group was, if I can be so bold, the one I was most excited for: the students put together their own pottery museum! Each student made a museum label with the date, style, title, and a small blurb describing the mythology on their pottery pieces. Each student leading the group explained a different pottery style, why they liked it, and why the styles changed and evolved over time. 

Once all the parents had rotated through each station, my first group of performers hurried to put their costumes on and take to the stage. Next to me was a student waiting for his play. I couldn’t read the expression on his face. 

“Are you nervous?” I asked.

“No,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the stage and whispering as to not interrupt the show. “I’m really excited. Plus, the parents said that they liked my pot a lot. They said we sounded smart.”

“You did sound smart!” I was happy to give him the compliment. A lot of the students shared the same anxious expression of proving just how well they had memorized their lines and sculpted their props to perfection.

I released a deep breath as the parents clapped at the conclusion of the plays. I don’t think I had taken a good lung-full of oxygen for the last three hours, much less through the entirety of the party (and recovering from pneumonia all the same). I felt a tap on my shoulder. One of the parents, a father, offered a hand to shake. I took it. 

“You know, my daughter’s going to end up an archaeologist after this,” He teased. 

“I surely hope so!” I joked back. 

“She comes home every day and asks Alexa all sorts of questions about Ancient Greece. She is so excited to learn now.” He said the words like they were casual, but it hit me deeply in the chest. The rest of the conversation was a blur after that. Had a little extracurricular exploration done all that?

Another parent, a mom, shook my hand and smiled. She told me I had a knack for this, that her son came home teaching her everything from school. Another father told me his daughter had put books on Ancient Greece on her Christmas list. Another spent their allowance at the book fair on a book on Pompeii.

As I gave my students their hugs as they left for their break, I am not ashamed to admit I cried. They’d proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that students could have fun, could be passionate, could be afraid, could have a meltdown, and still learn something from it. I think it healed something in me. This whole time, I had been just as afraid and self-doubting as they were. Now, half of the parents were telling me their kids were going to be archaeologists and historians, while the other half were asking me if I was going to stick around and continue to be a teacher. They had succeeded, sure, but so had I. 

With this, I sat down over winter break to begin putting together what this all meant to me, why I was so emotional, what I had learned.