A temporary teacher here in England was told earlier this week not to return after she told her class of 7- and 8-year-olds that Santa Claus wasn’t real. Parents were angry and upset, and said they believed that imparting this kind of sensitive information is the responsibility of the family, and should not be imparted in the classroom. One parent contacted the principal saying he’d had to spent hours convincing his 8-year-old daughter that the teacher had been wrong, and that there really was a Santa Claus.
8-years-old? Isn’t that a little old to still be believing in Santa when 9-year-olds are wearing heels and lipstick, and 12-year-olds are having babies?
Still, I understand how crushing the discovering of cruel reality can be. I have just survived the revelation that the Christmas carol “Good King Wenceslaus” is sung to the same tune as “Yankee Doodle Dandy.” “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” is the same melody as The Alphabet Song, and “My Country Tis of Thee” has the same notes as “God Save the King.”
All of this came as something of a shock. But my musician sister has now just told me the worst of all: “Somewhere Over the Rainbow” is really Chopin.
Arrgh! Is nothing sacred?
It’s like discovering there isn’t a Santa Claus.
Still, I think I’m mature enough to handle it.
*More than a century ago, Virginia O’Hanlon, age 8, wrote to the New York Sun newspaper asking the paper to tell her if there was a Santa Claus or not. “Yes, Virginia,” replied the editor. ” There is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist.” (http://beebo.org/smackerels/yes-virginia.html)
The Other I 
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