Saturday – Early Signs of Holiday Turbulence
The weekend began with a strange pattern: every American student cancelled their Monday lesson with alarming enthusiasm.
Typical messages included:
“I’ll be travelling.”
“We’re cooking this weekend.”
“Things are about to get… hectic.”
I asked one student what “hectic” meant in this context.
He answered:
“We have to clean the house before relatives inspect it.”
Ah yes. Seasonal panic.
Another student proudly informed me she’d already started thawing the turkey.
I said, “Already? Isn’t that a bit… early?”
She replied, “It’s fifteen pounds.”
I have nothing in my life that weighs fifteen pounds except emotional baggage.
Saturday Afternoon – The Lists
A student sent me her “Thanksgiving prep checklist” during a break.
It read like a military operation:
Defrost turkey
Mash potatoes
Argue about pies
Vacuum everything
Hide from Aunt Linda
Pretend not to notice Dad drinking from the special glasses
British holidays have drama, but not this structured.
Saturday Evening – Mystery Casserole Discourse
One student insisted on explaining, in great detail, the “classic green bean casserole.”
From what I can tell, it’s vegetables smothered in ingredients whose names sound made up:
“Cream of mushroom soup”
“French-fried onions”
I asked if one simply… ate green beans.
She gasped like I’d suggested cancelling Christmas.
Sunday – Peak Anticipation
Today’s lessons were half grammar, half grocery updates.
One student:
“We’re going to the supermarket now. Wish us luck.”
I wished them strength, bravery, and stable queues.
Apparently, this is a thing: Americans storm the shops the weekend before Thanksgiving, as though potatoes won’t exist in two days.
Another student joined class from the car, surrounded by shopping bags and muttering, “Never again,” while her mum shouted about missing cinnamon sticks.
I’ve never felt closer to them.
Sunday Afternoon – The Pie Rebellion
A teenager declared that he’s making his own pie this year to “prove a point.”
I didn’t ask what the point was.
Some mysteries are safer unsolved.
He showed me the recipe and asked, “Miss, what does ‘fold gently’ mean?”
I said, “It means don’t beat it like it owes you money.”
He said, “So… softly?”
Exactly.
Sunday Evening – Final Thoughts
Everyone keeps referring to Thanksgiving as “the big day,” “the feast,” or “the event.”
The level of anticipation is rather sweet, in a slightly alarming way.
As a Brit, I’m still acclimatising to the idea of a holiday based purely on food, gratitude, and competitive side dishes.
But I must admit… the enthusiasm is contagious.
If this is the warm-up, I’m terrified—and slightly excited—for the actual day.
