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Silent Night By Kathleen Toomey Starting first grade was a really big deal for Julia. She had never been allowed to do anything on her own before and going to school, a real school a public school meant her mother would not be allowed to go with her. She smiled her Cheshire Cat smile knowing she would be going alone, on her own. Her mother also promised for the first time, Julia could pick out her own clothes. Store bought outfits, not hand-me-downs from cousins anymore. Each outfit selected and purchased for its color coordinated effect with accessories to matchbelts, leggings, hats, and shoes all in color agreement. Each outfit a complete ensemble hanging assembled in her closet, separate, and marked for everyday of the weektogether in her closet. The very first day of school Julia was so happy. Skipping, singing and smiling in her first new outfit choice to the breakfast table, when she stopped short her hand reaching for the back of her chair, trying to comprehend the look of repulsion on her mothers face. A face contorted in a ghastly grimace, a total sucking-in of air and grabbing of her face with both hands that could not be held back. All that planning, all that arranging, all the talks with Julia, the placement of each outfit and accessory together in the closet, hanging belts and socks off each appropriate clothes hanger to make sure each selection was unquestionable, user-friendly and non-negotiable. To her mothers horror Julia wore pink-lace leggings accompanied by a blue and red plaid wool skirt with a floral orange sequenced T-top. Topped with a purple head band and her favorite playtime red-ball jet tennis shoes of molted white, worn all summer with toe holes in each. Julia had dismembered and reassembled three totally separate and different outfits. At the first parent-teacher conference, Julias teacher Ms. Gillespie, was very kind but direct in her assessment. Julia is a highly creative child we dont want to change that but she is a

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little overly creativeto a fault. She said. Julia has a hard time following instructionsthe rules. With a lot of hard work from both home and here at school, I think we can channel all that excessiveness into a workable and manageable curriculum that will bring Julia in-line with her classmates. Julias mother was absolutely ecstatic and hopeful. She no longer felt alone in the development of her daughter and by Thanksgiving Julia settled into her school routine. Ms. Gillespie was the best Julia thought. She took extra time and special care to show her just how each assignment needed to be done. She even understood now the use of multi-colored felt pens were no longer an option on her writing assignments. She didnt like the idea much and still did her own thing at home by continuing to color in her reading books, drawing her own story renditions in the margins with color, lots of color. No one saw her books so Julia let herself go and expressed all the color she wanted. She understood now, how and when, to be appropriate, especially in public. It was hard work but most times she knew herself to be doing okay. And Christmas was coming. Julia, now old enough, was being allowed to participate this year in the childrens Christmas pageant, another first for her. She was singing in the childrens choir. Her new outfit of deep red velvet, all laid-out and accessorized, hung in her closet. Her confidence was running high and she now knew just exactly what to do. The childrens choir walked single file into the church sanctuary, quietly, and not fidgeting. They walked, not to the adult choir loft, but right up front just behind the low railing where Pastor McCrery stood every Sunday welcoming his congregation; waving to those parishioners seated in the back pews, smiling to familiar faces, leaning over the railing to grasp and shake the hands of longtime friends and new comers. This gave him the closest advantage to his flock. Here is where he felt the happiest. This is where the childrens choir stood ready for

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the first time to sing before parents, grandparents, family members, church members and fellow church class mates. Last minute shuffling of papers, bags, coats, candy wrappers and whispers of take your hat off, sit still and the church parishioners fell silent. Mrs. Stillwater, the childrens choir director, walked in last. She faced the congregation, nodded her head in acknowledgement of them, turned back to the choir, and raised her hands gracefully above her shoulders. There she paused for a moment, scanning first to her left and then to her right. She searched the choir to make sure all eyes were focused on her. In a lift of both her hands and head slightly loftier she brought down her hands while rising on her toes like a bird ready to take flight, and the children began to sing. The childrens choir, tucked inside the church away from the bitter bite of winter cold and blowing began in unison raising their angelic voices high, clear to the arched cathedral ceiling, brushing every so lightly the beautiful illuminated stain glass windows, reaching clear to the back of the church out into the vestibule singing everyones most beloved hymn Silent Night. Julia, front and center, head held high, proud and beaming, in her own little world of wonder, color, and delight sang all the way through to the very end without missing a beat her most beloved hymn Away in the Manager.