I stopped believing in Santa by the Second grade. I had noticed that Santa always got to our house by 9pm on Christmas Eve. My mother would send us boys back to the back bedroom so that Santa would come. They would shout that he had left and they rushed to the living room to find stuff under the tree besides the wrapped presents. So when I was about 7 my 12 year old brother engaged me in a conversation about Santa. When I resisted, he said, "I'll prove it to you."
He took me back to our parent's bedroom closet and showed me where the gifts were hidden.
So-o-o, Here comes third grade and in December some of my friends were still talking bout Santa and I said to Mike Nesser, "Santa is not real." He went to our teacher Mrs. Sanders and told her what I said. She glared at me and shouted, "What are you saying? You don't know what you're talking about young man. Of Course there is a Santa Claus!"
Those words shook me and I got scared and started crying. I was in big trouble. I raised my hand and asked if I could go to the bathroom because I got something in my eye. She let me go.
I never discussed that subject again until High School when Mike Nesser remembered my statement and we had a good laugh.
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