Happy December! I just told this story to a friend over the weekend and decided it needed to be shared publicly again. I originally posted this tale to my previous blog in 2012, just after I quit teaching the first time. At that point, it had been thirteen years since “the incident.” Now, another thirteen years have passed, but the whole thing still cracks me up. Ah, the things we do when we’re twenty-three… Enjoy!
Confessions of a Former Teacher #1: I Stole the Baby!
[The last part of the title should be read in the voice of the brownie in the movie Willow. If you missed that on the first read, try again. If you don’t know what I’m talking about (sigh heavily) then check out this clip before reading on.]
As you know by now, I have quit teaching. Now that the dust has settled a little… the three-hole punch is packed away and the glue has dried on the “about me” collages… I feel it’s time to let you all in on a few choice secrets from my thirteen-year career. Prepare to gasp.
This first shocking tale of mayhem comes from my very first semester as a teacher. I was twenty-three years old and teaching 7th grade language arts in Cedar Park, TX. And I warn you, there are so many things wrong with this story, your judgmental brain won’t even know where to begin.
Let me set the scene.
It’s December. The chilly Texas air keeps threatening to drop below 40°F. It’s nine school days before the holiday break. The students are restless. The teachers are restless. Tacky Christmas sweaters are being donned with no irony at all. And then, quite suddenly, it appears in the break room: a nativity scene made out of chocolate.
I don’t know who brought it. I never heard anyone say a word about it. But there it was. Every day as I ate my homemade peanut butter sandwich or my cafeteria-bought chicken nuggets, out of the corner of my eye, hovering in my periphery, making a comfortable nest in the back of my mind, it was there. Milk chocolate Mary. Juicy Joseph. Scrumptious shepherd. Cocoa camel. Mouth-watering wise men. And that sweet, savory morsel—baby Jesus himself.
Every day for two weeks, I walked past this gaudy display and three thoughts occurred simultaneously to my brain. Is a nativity scene really allowed in a public school? Isn’t it kinda sacrilegious to cast our Lord and Savior in chocolate? Why can’t I stop salivating?
Every day for two weeks, it sat there, getting a little drier, a little more chalky in appearance, a wise man or two wilting just a bit. Taunting me.
Then school was out for the holidays. Students fled the campus, half-eaten candy canes hanging from their smile-stretched mouths. Teachers sped away in their sensible sedans, the gleam of freedom shining in their eyes like starlight. The campus would be a ghost town for two full weeks.
Except…
Two days after school let out, my Crazy Cousin Kelley came to visit me and brought along her friend Matt. Proud new teacher that I was, I wanted to show them where I worked.
Since the tour of my classroom (an extremely unimpressive space in a portable building with chalk boards and fake wood paneling) only took about a minute and half, I decided to wow them with a trip into the school building itself. I showed them the rows of maroon lockers and pointed inside locked classrooms at the dry erase boards. (Look! Look at the fancy stuff the INDOOR teachers get!) I pointed at posters advertising upcoming dances and demonstrated how my key unlocked both computer labs AND faculty restrooms, and my fans oohed and ahhed appropriately.
After I showed them the cafetorium (a fantastical place where people can both eat fish sticks AND enjoy off-key choir performances) and pointed out my favorite sign in the whole school (handwritten, hanging over the gym door, proudly proclaiming Do Not Take Balls Out—good advice by the way), we finally found ourselves in the break room. And IT was still there. In the rush to disperse at the last bell of the year, the chocolate nativity had been forgotten.
And, come on, from that point on it was really a no-brainer.
Yes, Crazy Cousin Kelley and I stole the baby chocolate Jesus from the candy nativity scene in the break room of the middle school where I taught. Matt, bless his pious little heart, cannot be blamed. He tried to talk us out of it. He said it wasn’t right. Later, when the conquest was complete and Kelley and I indulged in our very guilty pleasure Matt adamantly refused to participate. His soul remained pure. His teeth remained free of the devilish brown stain left by the sweet baby Jesus.
However, my Crazy Cousin and I were beyond reasoning. Satan had a hold of our taste buds and he wasn’t letting go. We barely made it to the parking lot before we had to satisfy our craving and taste our victory. And our victory tasted like… a two-week-old piece of chocolate that had been sitting out in the germ-infested air of a school. Ah well. We were in our twenties. Our immune systems were strong.
After the giddy drive home, Cousin Kelley and I celebrated our baby-Jesus-stealing in the obvious way: we wrote a song about it. Borrowing the tune (and quite a few of the lyrics) from REM, we commemorated our triumph with a ballad. The lyrics are found below. [Beware: Once you read them, you may never be able to listen to “Losing My Religion” in the same way again, so if you wish not to sully that sacred musical experience, I suggest you use the utmost restraint and stop after the next paragraph.]
So, there you have it. Confession #1. The sweet, caring, hard-working young woman you trusted to educate the next generation is nothing more than a thief, a heretic, a baby Jesus eater. It feels good to admit it.
“Losing Our Religion” Lyrics by Carie and Kelley Music stolen from REM [Note: I have no doubt that I could do better than this today. I believe my musical spoof skills have improved considerably in the past thirteen years. But I am resisting the urge to revise. This is the song, unchanged, as it was written in December of 1999. Don’t hate.] [2025 Note: Another thirteen years have passed since I wrote that previous note, but I still stand by it.]
Oh Christ, is smaller
Smaller when molded
Into chocolate
The lengths that I would go to
To see it in bite size
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
That's me in the break room
That's me in the bright light
Stealing baby chocolate Jesus
Trying to sneak it out with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I felt it melting
I shouldn’t be doing this thing
I think I heard Matt start to cry
With every swallow
I’m waiting to devour
I'm losing to temptation
Trying to keep my mind off it
Like a hungry and sinful fool, drool
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
Consider this
Jesus is calling to me
Consider this
I bit
It brought me to my knees
STALE
Now my whole theology has
Crashed to the ground
Now I've bit too much
I bet that it was fattening
I shouldn’t have eaten this thing
I think if asked I will deny
I wish it was a dream
CHOCOLATE NATIVITY SCENE
That's me in the break room
That's me in God’s light
Stealing baby chocolate Jesus
Trying to sneak it out with you
And I know now that I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I think I’ve said enough
I bet that it was fattening
I shouldn’t have eaten this thing
I think if asked I will deny
I wish it was a dream
Try, die, cry, why
CHOCOLATE NATIVITY SCENE
Caused a scene
Just a scene, seen
Carie Juettner 