I tried rational tactics, I tried emotional ones--nothing worked. I told her it was almost Christmas time. She didn't listen. She was wearing the plastic Santa Claus head with the pull-jerk red light nose that she wore every day from December first until vacation. It mocked me as I pleaded with her to change her mind, or at least change my grade. But she was adamant. So was I. Finally it was a battle between me, with the guidance office on my side, and Miss Davis, with God on hers. The outcome: she changed my grade with merciless composure and swore, "This will be on your conscience, not mine."

She was right.

The day before Christmas vacation arrived, we had a party in Latin class and played Roman charades. Miss Davis had worn her sorority pin. A sign of a holiday, it was a bangle that covered the entire upper left ventral portion of her anatomy--it looked like a war decoration. She was in a fine humor, giggling and talking about her father who had died in the nineteen twenties.

But it was difficult for me to join in the festivities. I knew that she resented leading "Adeste Fidelis." I had been glee at the changing of my grade; now I was not smug. She really hated me. And I could blame her. But I hadn't expected it to go to far.

I gave my report on the Roman celebrate of the winter solstice, Saturnalia. It had be a riotous pagan affair, and I described fully. Miss Davis enjoyed it, I could tell. If she still didn't like me.

I gave her a Christmas present. A pair Hanes support hose. The kind with season She was pleased, but she still didn't like it.

Latin class was over. She stiffly wished Happy Holidays, and Felix Annus Bonus knew that we had not made everlasting per or even called a holiday truce.

Since this is supposedly a fable now is time to wax philosophical and draw political ramifications from this story, plaining how this all ties in to putting Christ back in Christmas, and crush Nixon's empire. But I think all that is fectly clear. What isn't so clear is war happened to Miss Davis.

The school system has now been renovate Miss Davis and her date stamp and glass on-a-chain have not been able to adjusted busing, racially-mixed classrooms, accelerated language programs. The system needed her to leave; she was a relic over different style of education. Last year she teaching; her mother is now in Rosew Home for the Aged. The cornerstones Southern public school education crumbling, and it's high time. But I wish knew where to find her. I would liked apoligize for my obnoxious senior behavior, and say hello, since it is Christmas and to thank her. She provided the entertainment I got in high school.