A dream unraveled

It was a dream...FIVE years in the making. I scrimped and saved...begged, borrowed, and bartered...wrestling my way into my husband's resistant wallet until FINALLY my dream was realized. Team 4 had enough matching Christmas sweaters to last a week. Victorious...triumphant... I had summit-ted my ugly cotton-blend Everest.

My colleagues and I sat down to map out our weekly wardrobe schedule for December. "Monday will be Reindeer Day...Tuesday will be Gingerbread Man Day..." Suddenly, a discreet cough interrupted this pivotal meeting. "Ugh...about that," Geri said quietly, "I may have thrown away the Gingerbread Man sweater." We sat in stunned silence. She might just have well as said that she'd driven to the North Pole and stabbed Santa in the heart. I took several deep breaths and blinked back tears while Rachel and Kelly indignantly glared at our sweater separatist. "Amy has been working for YEARS to accumulate these hideous sweaters for us! Why on earth would you have thrown one away?"

Geri broke down under their grueling interrogation. "I snapped," she admitted finally. "That stupid plush gingerbread boy protruded at least two feet away from my chest. I couldn't maneuver around my classroom. It impeded my teaching. It was torture, I tell ya...TORTURE! No teacher should be expected to work under such conditions! I won't apologize," she spat venomously, "I WON'T!"

So it was with a heavy heart that I gathered my friends for our yearly picture. A picture that conveyed a message of teamwork, friendship, humor, loyalty, and love. But this year's picture would reflect a different message: A work-mate gone rogue...a non-conformist...a ne'er-do-well who would rather blaze her fashion trail alone. Take a long, hard look at that picture, folks, as it captures the very moment that my dream died.