It was the last day of school before the Christmas holidays, in fact it was the last lesson. Flora sat in the front row because they had English. Mark had done a little grammar with the children before he ended the lesson and talked to the children about what plans they had for Christmas. Elton, a little boy with big black glasses, was the one to tell his story:
"I'm going to go to my grandparents' farmhouse with my parents and my brother. We celebrate Christmas there every year. They have a huge farm and there's always an incredibly big Christmas tree." Mark nodded and smiled. He sat on the edge of his desk and talked to his students. Or his children, as he liked to call them.
"That sounds very nice, Elton. Christmas with family is something very special." He nodded. Flora bit her lower lip and raised her hand. "Yes, Flora?" Mark smiled gently at her.
"I'm spending Christmas at home with my dad. We only have a small Christmas tree, but we're going to make pistachio pudding and listen to music and...I hope it's nice." She said. Mark smiled.
"I hope so too, Flo. I bet your Christmas will be as nice as everyone else's." Flora smiled and nodded.
"And what are you doing for Christmas, Mr Knopfler?" Asked a boy named Axel from one of the back rows.
"Yes! You didn't tell us what you were going to do for Christmas!" Mary shouted in agreement. A murmur went through the class and Mark raised his hands, smiling. It immediately became quiet. The little children watched Mark carefully. Mark was the only teacher whose children did what he said. His colleagues often complained about class 2B and that they were all troublemakers. Mark couldn't say the same.
"Well, children. I'm spending Christmas at home." He said.
"With a Christmas tree?" Susan asked excitedly. She was a blonde girl who sat in one of the middle rows.
"No. I don't have a Christmas tree." Mark said.
"But why not!?" Flora cried out in horror. "Christmas trees are so beautiful and exciting and..."
"I haven't celebrated Christmas for many years." Mark explained, trying not to show his sadness, but it came through anyway. The children screamed wildly. "Children, please. Be quiet." The teacher giggled. A boy from the back left row raised his hand. "Yes, Mathew?"
"Why don't you celebrate Christmas, Mr Knopfler?" He asked eagerly. "Are you Muslim or something?" Mark giggled, as did the rest of the children.
"No. I'm a Christian. But you know..." Mark took a deep breath. "Many years ago, at Christmas." He bit his lower lip. "My parents and my two siblings died in a car accident." The children all gasped.
"How old were you, Mr Knopfler?" Josephine asked quietly.
"I was 14 years old at the time." Mark said calmly.
"What happened to you after that?" Axel asked. Mark shrugged.
"I went to the children's home."
"You grew up in the children's home?" Flora asked with wide eyes. "But it's terrible there and..."
"Shh. My dear." Mark smiled. "I grew up, see? I'm 35 now. I grew up anyway."
"Is that why you don't celebrate Christmas, Mr Knopfler?" Mathew asked sadly. Mark bit his lower lip and nodded.
"Yes." He cleared his throat and tried to chase away the sad mood among the children. "But that doesn't mean you shouldn't all have a nice Christmas, my dears." He smiled. "And I have something for you all too." Mark went to his briefcase and undid the clasps before reaching in and pulling out a bag. The children whispered excitedly. Mark smiled as he walked through the rows, handing each child a chocolate bar.
YOU ARE READING
Mr. Knopfler
Fanfiction"Could it be that you want to come to me, Mr?" The man asked, looking at John with a smile. John swallowed hard. That smile... bloody hell. "Eh... depends on who you are." He said with a dry mouth. "Oh. How rude of me." The man grinned and held out...
