It’s the February doldrums, which is about as far as we can get in the spring semester from either the feast of Christmas or the feast of Easter. We have just begun Lent in the West and Great Lent in the East, and therefore, of course, it is time to talk about Christmas and Easter traditions.

The fourth grade Greek and Latin classes end on a high note each semester as we take an important hymn we have learned related to one of the great feasts – Christmas and Easter, which so conveniently fall near the ends of our semesters – and sing it over and over for as many other classes as we can on the last day of school. I have come to think of this as a beloved tradition, though this is only the third class to “go caroling.” I love hearing them introduce themselves and tell their audience what they will be singing. I love how excited they are to cross the street to North Campus and sing for administrators or college or high school students. I love that sometimes the classes we visit give a song back to us as a gift. I love the Santa hats and light-up necklaces and red socks they wear to stand next to the Christmas tree singing “Venite, adoremus Dominum.” (Easter is shorter on accessories, but not on joy!)

This year, a student with a sibling in middle school asked me, “When are you going to talk about the person who started the Christmas caroling? My sister said you promised to tell the story every year to each new class.” I was startled. She was right. I had been focusing so much on teaching the words and pronunciation and translation that I hadn’t given credit where credit is due.

Two years ago, we were singing Latin Christmas carols with gusto. It was perhaps two weeks before the end of the semester. Among the restless and wiggly students, J raised his hand. “Wouldn’t it be cool if we could go Christmas caroling? Can we go Christmas caroling, Mrs. Harrington? All around the school?”

I did not immediately see merit in this suggestion. My first response was “Well... that would be so fun, but I don’t think...” Logistical hurdles danced in my head: Leading sixteen ten-year-olds to multiple locations in a single class period? Not losing any of them? Not interrupting final exams? Would they get stage fright? Would they remember the words? Would any colleagues at the end of the semester have space in their day to listen to Latin carols?

I don’t remember how long it took me to realize J’s suggestion was brilliant. It may have been several days before I agreed that we were actually going to try this new thing and see how it went. But truly, why confine the joy of these beautiful texts, set to beautiful tunes, to our class time? Why couldn’t we share it?

We did. It wasn’t perfect, but it was so worth it. So we did it again in the spring, with the Paschal Troparion in Greek. It was lovely to see our community rejoicing with us and responding “Χριστος ανεστη! Αληθως ανεστη!”

J’s class was thrilled that he was the originator of our caroling adventures. Dickens’ phrase “the founder of the feast” came to mind as I promised to give J the credit when the next group of fourth graders learned our Latin Christmas carols. He beamed when we came to sing for his fifth grade class the next year.

What do I want my students to learn from this? More honestly, what have I learned more deeply from this? Beautiful things are meant to be shared. The feasts of Christ’s Incarnation and Resurrection are worthy of the most beautiful words and music we have. Even during finals week, the stress is transient but the joy of the Feast is eternal.

And this as well: that you, the wiggly student, have joyful ideas that may be better than mine, and your joy might go beyond our class to bless the whole school, for years to come. To J, the founder of the feast!