In third grade, I was mesmerized by my music teacher’s Christmas sweater.

As I stood quietly in the fourth row of class, hearing the vague chorus of voices around me, I studied it intently. Thick black yarn, like the yarn I wound around popsicle sticks in art class, slunk down from her shoulders and draped around her belly. Red buttons perched up the sweater like red roofed houses up a mountain, and on the left side of the buttons three snowmen leaned in together, music notes pouring forth from their mouths. It was a strange and otherworldly garment, I thought.

Like aliens, the strange and otherworldly garments have infiltrated our school, spreading from elderly music teachers to ironic hipsters to regular students.

Christmas sweaters are established at MHS, and there are several reasons why.

One is that they are disgustingly good, like pigs-in-a-blanket.

Another is that Christmas sweaters are nostalgic. They make you think of stuffing your mouth with your mom’s Christmas fudge and sledding on your brother’s lap. Christmas sweaters can even resurface feelings of a simpler time, when you were younger and mistakes were less costly.

Finally, Christmas sweaters are relaxing and safe. They are easy; asexual; welcoming. They feel like real Christmas, uncluttered by shiny car commercials. Wearing a Christmas sweater feels like drawing a line to real Christmas, and embracing it.