The Magic of December

December has a kind of magic that feels different when you’re a mom of teenagers and a kindergarten teacher—and different still when you’ve once sat in the principal’s chair, watching entire school communities transform with the season. It’s a month that shimmers in layers, each one revealing a new kind of wonder.

As a mom of teens, the magic is quieter now, but somehow deeper. The days of little ones whisper-shouting about Santa have given way to late-night talks lit by the soft glow of the Christmas tree. The sparkle in their eyes looks different—it’s not about toys anymore, but about traditions they still secretly love, the comfort of home, and the nostalgia they try so hard to hide. You catch them humming along to favorite holiday songs, still searching for the elf, or lingering a little longer in the kitchen when cookies come out of the oven. They may be taller than you now, busier than ever, but December seems to pull them back in, reminding them—and you—of who you’ve been together all along.

In kindergarten, though, the magic is loud, unfiltered, and impossible not to feel. It’s in mitten-clad hands clutching paper snowflakes; in gasps of delight during read-alouds about gingerbread friends and winter animals; in the way five-year-olds believe wholeheartedly that joy is something you can sprinkle like glitter. Every day holds a small celebration—a new letter, a new word, a new discovery made brilliant by the season. Their excitement becomes yours. Their wonder becomes your reminder: the world is still an enchanted place.

And then there’s the principal lens—the part of you that still sees the bigger picture. December in a school is a symphony of community: teachers creating magic in their classrooms, families coming together for concerts and celebrations, children bounding through hallways in fleece-lined boots. You remember the effort, the orchestration behind the scenes, the careful balance of joy and logistics. It makes you appreciate what you have now: the gift of focusing on your students and your own children while still holding that wider understanding of how much love it takes to make a school feel like home.

December, in all these roles, becomes a mosaic of moments. Early-morning drives to school under a pink winter sky. Sticky-fingered crafts that follow you home. Teenagers who are too old for certain traditions but not quite ready to let them go. A classroom that smells faintly of crayons and pine. A heart stretched in many directions but full, because this month—more than any other—reminds you why you do all of it.

The magic of December is this: it lets you see the world through every age at once. It lets you feel wonder, nostalgia, responsibility, and joy braided together. And in the glow of it all, you realize that the season’s true magic isn’t found in lights or songs or celebrations—it’s found in the people you’re growing, guiding, and loving every single day.