When I was growing up, I went to Catholic schools. Now neither of my parents were religious and did not know anything about Catholicism, God or Western holiday traditions for that matter (my parents are Chinese). I certainly was not Catholic (even though I thought I was). The only reason why my parents sent me there was because they wanted me to go to a good school (I suppose they paid a lot of money for it, but I don’t think it was worth it, unless you count me telling this story worth it).
Being a Catholic school, most of the teachers were also nuns (instead of Mrs or Miss, they all (for the most part) went by “sister”). In first grade I think my teacher was named Sister Anita or something like that (memory jogs me at this point and for some reason the name “Anita” sounds correct), so naturally we had a period in the day where she taught us about religion and the bible. Now, I’m not sure how things go in public schools, because by the time I transferred to public schools, I was in third grade (by then we all knew Santa Claus was not real), but in first grade at a Catholic school, the teacher insisted that Santa Claus was real.
I remember how she explained that you have to be a good boy or girl to be able to get gifts from Santa Claus and all that jazz and being a young and naive 5 year old, I had no f*cking idea that everything coming out of her mouth was all bull sh*t! I mean I was the only Chinese kid in the class and everyone else was pretty much White and Catholic, so naturally their parents would play along with the whole Santa Claus bull sh*t while mine did not. I mean, seriously Santa is a fat, jolly White man, not a lean Asian man with a mustache.
Seriously, my dad looked just like Desmond the Ghoul from Fallout 3 (Point Look Out). If my father would have turned into a Ghoul, he would look just like Desmond (he had the mustache, glasses, the slicked back hair and he always wore a suit)! A dude like this is NOT going to dress up like Santa Claus.
So when Christmas Eve finally came, I was all excited. My mom had decorated the fire place with Christmas stockings (one for me and one for my little brother) and my dad had even put up a Christmas tree. I even got my presents in advance from them (they made it clear that they purchased them and not Santa)…. Wait, that reminds me… I even asked Santa Claus at the mall for G.I. Joes that same year when my mom took me there. I don’t know whether or not I still have the picture of 5 year old me sitting on Santa Claus’ lap somewhere, but I’ll have to look for it.
Yeah, I always thought Santa Claus was a creepy looking White man. This was the Santa Claus I grew up with. Enough with the multi ethnic Santa debate! He’s a f*cking White dude okay!
Anyway, it was Christmas Eve and of living room was decorated to the nines with Christmas crap (I suppose my parents did it for me and my brother, but they didn’t know all the traditions). I even left cookies and milk by the fire place for Santa Claus that year (like my teacher told us to), but my mom was like “What are you doing? You need to drink that milk!” I told her it was for Santa Claus and she had this puzzled look on her face and told me that Santa Claus does not drink milk and if I left it out, it would spoil. Then I asked her about the cookies, and she said yes, I could leave the cookies out and they will be alright, but she insisted that I needed to drink the milk, so I did.
Let’s see Santa Clause eat his own face off!
The next morning, I expected Santa Claus to give me and my brother Christmas presents, but our stockings were as empty as they were last night and the cookies were uneaten. I remember I was in shock. I believed I was bad and I was very sad that Santa Claus did not visit me or my brother. Then I saw the empty boxes that my mother had wrapped in ornamental paper (purely for aesthetic purposes for guests, as they were just empty boxes) and I thought to myself “maybe they are in there?”. I had reasoned in my own little mind that perhaps the empty boxes may have somehow been magically converted to real presents, so I tore them open only to find nothing…. They were as empty as the day I wrapped them with my mother. Now I was confused and maybe I even cried. I can’t remember. All I know was that it was a bleak Christmas because the Santa Claus at the mall promised me G.I. Joes and yet he did not show up (I did get G.I. Joes, but my mom and dad bought them for me, not Santa).
My mom would wrap empty boxed in Christmas wrapping paper to decorate the tree… Tempting right?
Not sure about other kids, but when Christmas break was over and the teacher asked us what Santa got for Christmas, I was the only one who said “nothing”. Needless to say, all the kids were shocked and I remember asking my best friend what he thought and he told me, maybe it’s because you’re not Catholic (either my friend or the teacher said that, I can’t remember, pretty sure it was my friend). Then I was like, how can I become Catholic so I can get presents next year? You have to get your parents to take you to church and they will baptize you (my parents never did).
The entire year, I believed Santa Claus was an evil bastard… Because I was good damn it (at least I thought I was)!
Year after year it was like this until I finally came to terms that Santa Claus was a fraud. So how did you find out Santa Claus was not real?