Christmas, reconsidered.

Last week, as I wrapped up a lesson, I asked my students if they had any wishes for our final class of the year.
I teach a literature-based course for teenagers. I’m not sure what I expected them to say—but it definitely wasn’t:

“Something Christmasy.”

It caught me completely off guard. I would have sworn they were too old, too cool, too irony-trained for Christmas. But apparently, I couldn’t have been more wrong. There’s something stubborn inside us that refuses to dismiss Christmas entirely. Maybe you’re not the caroling-and-cookie-baking type, but everyone wants a piece of it in some form or another.

I know a family with a Christmas calendar full of daily activities—one for each day of December. Each activity worthy of an entire Hallmark season on its own. I admire them. Or rather, I admire her, because let’s be honest: it’s usually the mother who conceives, plans, schedules, and emotionally carries these traditions while everyone else simply shows up.

Then I know another family who doesn’t celebrate Christmas at all. Instead, they declare a “winter fun season.” There’s family time, games, cooking—just no tree, no presents, no Christmas branding whatsoever. It takes real courage to push back against the omnipresent Christmas spirit. And while I can intellectually agree with their position, I couldn’t do it myself. Not because I need Christmas—but because the kids do.

No matter what I personally believe or think about Christmas, my children firmly believe there’s a man who travels the world in one night, parks his sleigh midair outside our balcony, and delivers presents under a tree. You don’t mess lightly with that level of conviction.

I didn’t grow up believing in Santa—fortunately or unfortunately—so what I perform now for my kids is nothing short of an Oscar-worthy role. The nodding. The serious face. The elaborate explanations. But there are values I willingly borrow from Christmas, and the first is selflessness. I don’t want to ruin their piece of Christmas just because it doesn’t align with my own experiences or beliefs.

Still, if I ever found the courage to take a stand against the more commercial version of Christmas, it wouldn’t be to cancel or diminish it—but to gently redirect it. Toward something closer to the Nativity without entering religion. Christmas as quiet joy. As reflection. As gratitude. As noticing others. As care.

There are many ways to feel the end-of-year holidays: the Coca-Cola red Santa, a carefully curated winter season that never utters the word Christmas, or something in between. Here are my humble suggestions for enjoying Christmas in a way that lets everyone have their piece—without forgetting what we’re really celebrating.

1. Give From What You Love (Not What You Don’t)

Instead of donating random, forgotten things, invite children to choose:

• A toy they still like
• A book they would reread
• Clothes they enjoy wearing

Let them decide where it goes—a local charity, a shelter, a school donation. This teaches that generosity isn’t about leftovers. It’s about intention. And yes, a little sacrifice.

2. Listening as a Gift

Many people feel loneliest during the holidays. Listening is a quiet way of saying you matter.

Teach children that attention is one of the rarest gifts. Invite them to:

• Call or visit an older relative
• Ask three real questions (“What was school like when you were little?”)
• Listen without interrupting

No fixing. No rushing. Just presence.

3. The “Someone Else First” Day

Choose one ordinary day with a simple rule: someone else comes first.

Let kids decide:

• Who might need help today? (a sibling, neighbor, classmate, grandparent)
• What could make their day a little lighter?

At the end of the day, talk about how it felt—not what they gave, but what shifted. Because something always does. For both sides.

Happy holidays.