Friday hearkened me back to those school days when the girls would giggle and give chocolate and the boys would roll their eyes because their moms had made them bring red-hot hearts and painstakingly printed "Love, Johnny" notes to class. And come high school, couples would kiss in hallways and misfits loathed the day of red sweaters and exclusionary games.
But the other day, as a teacher, I experienced the other side.
I cleaned up on Hallmark holiday numero uno. Pink, heart-shaped boxes exploding with candied sentiments. Red bows. Handmade cards. A white chocolate rose. Even some of those sweet, folded 100-to-a-box "personal" messages. And I watched my flush-faced students dance up to their "closest bests" to bestow upon them love's trinkets.
Now, my high school students know that I don't buy in to this manmade million dollar jubilee. This made it all the more fun when I actually received an actual valentine from another teacher.
The stuffed kangaroo, balloon and flowers arrived in first hour. Rumors spread like World War 2 venereal diseases.
To prove things never change, another guy I work with finds out about the token of affection and decides to try to get in on my love-in. So not only do I work in a high school, I apparently attend one as well.
Being the cynical VD hater that I am, I decided to flee this scene and share my love with my girlfriends in L.A. I was content to start February 14th on Venice Beach after a night of chic-chic dining in Hollywood and drinking on Sunset.
But last night, as I watched the Valentines Day couples stroll down the Santa Monica Pier, I saw that same glow in their faces as I did in the hallways of my high school and I briefly bought into the sweetheart-hype.
