Sugar and the holidays are two words that double dip into the same milky glass of connotation. For me, the holidays are simply not complete without a confectioner’s selection of sugar-sprinkled cookies, spicy gingerbread, and buttery sablés. Sugar can come without the holidays, but the holidays can’t come without sugar.
So why, why, I plead, did I agree to a challenge for a week-long sugar detox the week leading up to Christmas?
Would this guarantee me a spot on Santa’s nice list? Would the reindeer giddy-up a wee bit faster to reach my little Parisian rooftop? I came to the conclusion sugar detoxing before the holidays was a dose of… not smart decisions.
Teaching is a lot like theater, perhaps more so than I reckoned. Never would have reckoned my starring years as a Stone Wall, Plate, or Goat Herder would have lead me to this moment to fully command a class. As I stood in front of thirty pairs of Frenchie kids’ eyes, it struck me quite readily this was my audience and this was my show.
Even if for a mere 45 minutes.
As a pipsqueak little kid, becoming a teacher is an idea I fancied. Charmed by the idea of sharing ideas, making crafts, and writing pretty handwriting across crisp white paper – I was totally sold. As time wore on, my ideas of what I wanted to be brewed in as much variety as coffee: allongé, café filtre, américano… But do you notice a theme here? They all derived of similar… notes.