Happily Ever After

I’m on my prep, heading back to the classroom and slowly catching up to the two girls wandering down the hallway ahead of me, deep in conversation. For what must be the millionth time this December alone, I am trying to decide if it’s worth telling students that they really should be in class: my brain is on autopilot. Then I hear one of them say, “it’s happILY ever after.”

“HappILY?” her friend repeats, shaking her head quizzically.

“Yes.” She re-emphasizes the ily and the girls slow even more.

“But why?”

“I don’t know. But it is so.”

“Why not ‘happy forever’?”

“Yes, in Spanish it is ‘happy forever’ but here is it ‘happILY ever after.’”

They have nearly stopped. The questioner continues to shake her head, repeating “happILY” under her breath a few times. And now I have caught up to them.

“I can explain the ‘-ily,’” I say. Two faces turn towards me with such obvious pleasure that I nearly laugh. I explain that happily is an adverb and that it tells how they lived. I liken it to lentamente in Spanish. They nod gravely.

Then, I add, “but I don’t know why it’s ‘ever after.’”

Their interest bubbles over. “Si! In Spanish we say feliz para siempre – happy forever. So easy. Forever.”

Now we are in front of my classroom door. Inside, my student teacher is waiting. And really, the girls should be in class. So I shoo them off, saying, “I’ll look it up! Come back if you want to!” and off they go, hopefully to class, hopefully happILY.