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Illustration by Marley Allen-Ash
My son came home a few days ago with a slip of paper. On it was the name of the person in his class he had chosen as his Secret Santa gift recipient. Under her name, there was a list of three random items: gummy bears, a clear phone case for an iPhone12 and an Amazon gift card. “What are these?” I asked my son. “What she wants,” he replied, with a look of “duh” in his eyes.
First, I want to say kudos to this girl. She knows what she wants and, despite the price cap of $20, put it all down to see what she could get. It did give me pause to think about the tradition of Secret Santa and how it has evolved. What started as just picking a name from a hat has morphed into something quite different. True, there was probably always a price cap to ensure that all would be kept fair. It’s also voluntary now, so you don’t have to participate if you don’t want to. But gone is the element of surprise. Now you write a list of what you want and just pray the person who picked your name (or, more likely, their parents) has the decency to get it for you.
I still remember my Grade 8 Secret Santa experience like it was yesterday.
I don’t recall who I picked but I do remember the anticipation and excitement of wondering who chose me. My Grade 8 class was quite small and only had five girls, so chances of one of my friends picking my name seemed slim. But dare to dream! Could my classroom crush have picked my name? Pictures of roses and cards illustrated with hearts danced in my head as I tried to sleep the night before.
Imagine my horror the next day when I came to discover who had chosen my name: my No. 1 Grade 8 nemesis, Matt Flynn. Was this some kind of twisted joke? You could not have picked a worse match.
I sat pouting while each of my classmates went before me, gasping with happiness when they opened their giant bar of chocolate or new writing journal with a pretty cover. All these thoughtful gifts. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to get stuck with him? I was so wound up in sulking over what was to come that to this day I can’t remember whom I picked or how they reacted to my gift.
As it got closer to my time to open, I noticed my fellow classmates all whispering and smiling at me oddly. This only heightened my sense of dread. Truly, our relationship was not a nice one and I was convinced half of the class was in on what would surely be a cruel joke at my expense.
Finally, the moment arrived. The teacher looked at me and said, “go ahead, this one is yours.” I looked to the floor and saw the most basic of cardboard boxes. Wow, I thought – he didn’t even bother to wrap it. I did my best to fake a small smile as I moved toward the box with more than a little trepidation. Just before I reached it, there was Matt, standing off to the side. He didn’t have the usual smirk on his face. Instead, he looked … nervous? “I hope you like it,” he said quietly.
Puzzled by what seemed like a sincere sentence, I carefully started to open the box. There inside, quite happy to be let out, was a tiny, black kitten. I gasped. A kitten? Matt had bought me a living, breathing kitten? I was beyond over the moon and quickly picked her up and nuzzled my face against her soft fur. Everyone gathered around to snag a pet or a quick squeeze of this cutest of miniature black fur balls.
Of course, this kind of a Secret Santa gift would never happen today and with good reason. People have allergies. Pets cost money. Not everyone likes or wants a pet. But there, in that moment, my entire perspective of Matt was forever changed. I understood that he didn’t hate me. Maybe, just maybe, he even liked me. I can’t say that we became fast friends as a result, but it did make me take a step back and look at him differently. I realized that he wasn’t a bad person, he was just trying to get my attention when he acted out. Often, we are quick to label these kinds of kids as brats or bullies, but sometimes they may just be lost or lonely. Maybe they are looking for friendship or some direction they aren’t getting at home. Maybe that gift of a kitten was all Matt wanted for himself but wasn’t allowed to have.
It has been said a lot living through this pandemic of almost four years, but it bears repeating: This holiday, do something nice for someone when it isn’t expected. I’m not suggesting you hand out kittens. The smallest of gestures will do. Sometimes the smallest gesture from the most unexpected person means the world.
Laurel Keenan lives in Toronto.