Work dictates holidays

Instead of hiring a chef, we found a local restaurant willing to cook for our students.

We set up a catering system and started a trial period. Wondering if it would actually work. But as the food arrived and the students gathered around, that wonder quickly faded. Plates filled, laughter started, and within minutes it just… worked. The students loved the food! It all went better than we expected.

By the time we finished class reviews, rolled out the catering system, delivered all the teaching materials to the Learning Center, and sent out our very first newsletter, something shifted. For the first time in a while, we could actually breathe. Sleep came easier. There was a quiet sense of relief knowing things were falling into place.

The catering, especially, felt like a real win. The students were happy and well-fed, and it showed immediately. Fuller plates, fewer complaints, more smiles during meals.

Even though the students went on holiday, things didn’t really slow down for us. I used the Christmas break to train the teachers, sitting together in classrooms that felt strangely empty without the usual noise. We worked through Project-Based Learning, going over their ideas, helping shape their lessons. It was quieter work, but focused. Important progress.

The next day, on the 24th, we celebrated at school. The atmosphere was completely different. The campus had been transformed with handmade decorations: paper streamers hanging between buildings, stars cut out and taped to walls, everything slightly uneven but full of effort and care.

We all ate together, sitting close, sharing food, talking, laughing. There were games, small moments of chaos, and bursts of laughter from the students. It felt warm.

After that, we headed to our neighbors’ Christmas party. Their garden was lit up softly, music playing in the background, and people gathered around tables with drinks in hand. Familiar faces everywhere. Grant, Namh, Dave, and even our new neighbors, Heinz and Net. Conversations came easy, and time passed without notice.

Then we got home on Christmas Eve, after the party.

Earlier this week, we had prepared and scheduled our newsletter when an error popped up. It hadn’t been sent. Not a single one.

We stared at the screen for a moment, hoping it was a glitch. It wasn’t.

So we did the only thing we could do: send it manually. One by one. Over 1,500 recipients.

What was supposed to be a calm Christmas Eve turned into hours behind our laptops, clicking, checking, sending, repeating. The room was dim, the only light coming from our screens. By the time we finished, it was nearly 11 p.m.

Not exactly the Christmas Eve we had imagined.

On Christmas Day, things finally slowed down.

A quiet morning. No rush. I sat with my laptop, going through the teachers’ PBL worksheets. It was the first time they had created them on their own. You could see the effort in every document. A step forward.

At some point, we stopped by to see Dave. He was alone for Christmas, not very mobile anymore. The visit was simple, but it mattered.

That evening, we went to the Wakepark for dinner. The place was beautifully set up. Lights reflecting on the water, palm trees swaying slightly in the evening breeze, the whole place feeling almost like a little tropical escape.

And the food… incredible.

We completely overdid it.

By the end of the meal, we were leaning back on the couch, full to the point of discomfort, laughing, groaning, not able to move much anymore. One of those meals where you know halfway through you should stop, but you don’t.