The Advent Calendar Worksheet Download

Look at all those little doors! This Advent calendar has a door for each day. Behind each door waits a picture or a treat.

But long before the treats there were only chalk lines! In the 1800s families in Germany counted days to Christmas. They drew a line or lit a candle each day.

Later, those lines became paper doors. Gerhard Lang is often credited with making early printed calendars. Today a calendar can even be socks or toys or books!

Can you count the days until Christmas, one by one? Families in Germany counted Advent, the days before Christmas, in the 1800s. Some drew a chalk line each day, and others lit a candle.

Chalk and candles were fun, but then paper joined in! In the early 1900s, printers began making Advent calendars for families. A man named Gerhard Lang is often given the credit.

Soon, calendars had little doors to open, with pictures inside! Later came chocolate, a sweet treat hiding behind each door! Now books, socks, and toys count the days, just like chalk lines did!

Wow, you can open a tiny door and find a chocolate behind it! That is an Advent calendar, a special way to count the days until Christmas. Advent is the time before Christmas, when Christians get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Before any chocolate hid behind a door, families in Germany in the 1800s counted the days in simpler ways. Some drew one chalk line on a door each day. Others used candles to mark the days.

Candles burn down and chalk rubs off, so people wanted a countdown to hold in their hands. In the early 1900s, a printer named Gerhard Lang is often credited with making some of the first printed calendars. Later, calendars got little doors, and each door hid a picture.

Pictures were a treat, but later came something sweeter: chocolate behind the doors! Today, calendars can be books, socks to hang up, or boxes of tiny toys. So a countdown that began with a chalk line can now be a sock full of surprises!

Imagine you are tiptoeing into the kitchen on the morning of December 1. On the wall hangs a cardboard calendar with tiny doors, and behind the first one is a silver bell! This is an Advent calendar, a calendar that counts the days before Christmas. Advent is a time of waiting, and Christians use it to get ready to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Waiting is hard, and families in Germany knew it well in the 1800s. Some drew one chalk line on a door or wall each day. Others lit a candle to mark the days. Can you picture a door covered in chalk lines? Each new line meant Christmas was one day closer!

Chalk rubs off and candles burn down, so people wished for a calendar that would last. In the early 1900s, a German man named Gerhard Lang is often credited with making some of the first printed Advent calendars. Because they were printed, shops could sell them, so families no longer had to make their own. Later, calendars were made with little doors, with a picture waiting behind each one.

Pictures behind doors were a hit, but later, calendars hid something even yummier: chocolate! Today, calendars come as books with a tiny story each day, socks with a gift in each, or boxes of little toys. Even a calendar full of toys still does what a chalk line on a door did: it shows Christmas is one day closer.

Picture a frosty December morning in a German farmhouse in the 1800s. A child tiptoes to the door, draws one chalk line, and will add another tomorrow, until the marks stretch across the wood like tiny fence posts. What is the child counting? It's the days of Advent, the weeks before Christmas, when Christians prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus.

Chalk lines were only one way to count down to that celebration. Some families lit a new candle each day, and others hung up a small picture. In 1839, a German pastor named Johann Hinrich Wichern made a wooden ring of candles for children at his school in Hamburg, with a candle for each day. Many people think it helped inspire today's Advent wreaths.

Homemade countdowns were lovely, but soon printers found a way to make them for everyone. Gerhard Lang, a German printer, is often credited with making some of the first printed Advent calendars in the early 1900s. Instead of marking a door, a child could hang up a calendar bought at a shop. Later versions added little paper doors, each hiding a surprise!

Pictures were a nice surprise, but what if the surprise were something you could taste? In time, companies began tucking a small piece of chocolate behind each door. Most calendars have 24 doors, one for each day from December 1 through Christmas Eve. That means one cardboard calendar can hold two dozen tiny surprises.

Chocolate is still a favorite, but today's calendars hide many other treats. Some are 24 tiny books, one to read each night. Others are rows of socks hanging on a string, or boxes filled with small toys. Whether it holds a book, a sock or a toy, each is a cousin of that single chalk line on a farmhouse door.

Here is a puzzle: why would anyone make a calendar with doors you are not allowed to open all at once? Picture a cardboard scene of a snowy village, covered in tiny numbered windows, one for each day before Christmas. Behind every door waits a picture, a piece of chocolate, or a small surprise that stays secret until its day arrives. The answer lies in a very old way of counting down to Christmas, and it began with something from your classroom: chalk.

Chalk really was one of the first tools for this countdown! In the 1800s, many German families marked the days of Advent, the weeks before Christmas, by drawing a chalk line on a door each day. Others lit candles or hung up a new picture as the days went by. Christians celebrate Christmas as the birth of Jesus, so these small daily steps made the waiting feel like part of getting ready.

Waiting is easier when you can see the days go by, but chalk lines smudge and candles burn down. Early in the 1900s, a printer from Munich named Gerhard Lang is often credited with making one of the first printed Advent calendars. One story says he remembered a calendar his mother made him as a boy, with a sweet for each day. His later calendars added the feature you probably know best: little doors that open to show a picture.

Those little doors nearly stayed shut for good. During World War II, paper and cardboard were hard to find in Germany, and making Advent calendars stopped for a time. After the war, printers started again, and by the middle of the 1900s some calendars had chocolate hiding behind each door. Families in other countries began enjoying them too, so a custom from German homes now shows up on kitchen counters around the world.

Chocolate is only the beginning of what hides behind Advent doors today. Some calendars are books with a short story to read each day, some are rows of socks holding tiny gifts, and some are toy sets with a new piece to build each morning. Other families use a wooden calendar with little drawers that they refill every year. Not bad for an idea that started with a single chalk line on a door!

Do you think an Advent calendar is just a cardboard box invented to sell chocolate? Think again! Behind those little paper doors hides a countdown with a much older story, and it began with plain chalk. Each morning in December, you open one flap and find a tiny picture, such as a glowing star or a single candle, and Christmas gets one day closer. For Christians, Advent is the season of getting ready for Christmas, when they celebrate the birth of Jesus, and the calendar turns that waiting into something you can see and touch.

That chalk was no joke, because in the 1800s some families in Germany used it as their Christmas clock. A child might draw one line on a door or wall for each day of Advent, or rub out one line every morning until the big day arrived. Other families lit a candle each day or added a new picture to the wall. Can you imagine a countdown written right on your front door, where every visitor could read how close the celebration was? It was a homemade calendar, and no two families made theirs in quite the same way.

Homemade countdowns worked well, but sooner or later somebody was bound to print them. In the early 1900s, a German named Gerhard Lang, who is often credited with making the first printed Advent calendars, began producing them in Munich. A popular story says he was inspired by his mother, who once gave him a calendar with 24 little sweets to count down the days. His printed calendars later gained the little doors we know today, which hid a picture behind each numbered flap like a secret waiting to be found. Imagine discovering that one sheet of paper could hold twenty-four surprises!

Those doors almost stayed shut, though, when World War II made paper and cardboard hard to find in Germany. After the war ended, printers went back to work, and the calendars returned to shops. In the decades that followed, chocolate began to hide behind the doors, so the countdown became something you could taste as well as see. Calendars also traveled well beyond Germany, and today families in many countries open them each December. Not bad for an idea that started as a few scratches of chalk!

From chalk to chocolate was a big leap, but calendars kept leaping, and today doors are only one of many choices. You can find calendars made of fabric pockets, tiny socks, or 24 wrapped books, and there are even ones filled with toy building bricks. In my view, the variety proves that the real gift of an Advent calendar is the daily pause, not the prize. Whether you open a door or pull a treat from a sock, you get a moment to look forward. Even the fanciest calendar does what a chalk line did long ago: it turns a long wait into small steps you can count.

Twenty-four tiny doors, one giant wait: that is the Advent calendar in a nutshell! Picture a cardboard winter village, with numbered flaps hiding among the rooftops, windows, and snowmen. Each morning in December you open just one, and behind it you might find a picture, a tiny toy, or a square of chocolate. Christians use Advent, the weeks before Christmas, to prepare for the celebration of the birth of Jesus, and the calendar helps everyone count the days. Yet the paper doors you know today are the end of a long story about how people turn waiting into something you can see.

Before anyone could open a door, families had to invent their own way of counting, and in 1800s Germany that often meant chalk. Some households drew one chalk line on a door or wall for each day of December, so the marks grew like a slow staircase toward Christmas. Others burned a candle each evening or hung up a small picture, and no two families counted in exactly the same way. These simple habits worked because each mark or flame made a long stretch of time feel like steady progress.

Homemade counting was charming, but it took a printing press to carry the idea far beyond one family's kitchen. In the early 1900s, printed Advent calendars appeared in Germany, and a man named Gerhard Lang is often credited with helping bring them to many homes. The story goes that, as a boy, he remembered a calendar his mother made with 24 little treats attached to a piece of cardboard. Printing changed the custom because a single clever idea could now be copied again and again and sold in shops. Notice the words 'often credited' instead of 'first': early calendars were often handmade, and records from that time are scattered, so historians are careful.

Whoever printed the very first one, the invention soon met a very ordinary problem: a shortage of cardboard. During World War II, paper and cardboard were scarce in Germany, and making Advent calendars became very difficult for a time. After the war, printers brought the calendars back, and the custom spread to other countries, including the United States. As the calendars traveled, the little doors stayed the same, but the pictures changed to fit new places, with snowy villages, angels, and storybook scenes. That is how a custom can keep its shape while changing its style.

Pictures behind the doors were lovely, but the biggest surprise came when the doors began to hide something you could taste. Later in the 1900s, calendars with a piece of chocolate behind each door became popular, and stores filled their shelves with them every autumn. That shift changed the feeling of the custom, because looking at a picture became getting a small reward for waiting. Some people feel the candy has taken over, while others say the daily door still gives families a reason to pause together. Either way, the word 'countdown' fits perfectly, since each opened door means one fewer day to wait.

Once chocolate opened the door to new ideas, makers began asking what else could hide behind twenty-four flaps. Today you can find calendars made of books, with a wrapped story for each night, and cloth ones with pockets or tiny socks to fill. Toy companies such as LEGO sell calendars with a small surprise to build behind every door. Some hold tea bags or craft supplies, and many families still make their own, just like the chalk-line households did. From chalk lines to toy-filled socks, every version shares one secret: it turns a long wait into a small daily surprise.

As the story goes, a boy in Germany named Gerhard Lang kept asking his mother the same question every December: how many more days until Christmas? Instead of answering again, she is said to have made him a homemade calendar with 24 little treats, one for each day of waiting. That boy grew up to become a printer, and his idea eventually landed in homes around the world. An Advent calendar is a countdown to Christmas, usually a card, box, or hanging with numbered spaces that each hide a surprise. Open one, and you might hear the soft crackle of cardboard and find a tiny painted star, a glowing village window, or a square of chocolate.

Chocolate, though, was nowhere to be found in the earliest countdowns, which were made of chalk and candlelight. Advent, from the Latin word adventus, meaning "coming," is the season when Christians prepare to celebrate the birth of Jesus, and it begins on the fourth Sunday before Christmas Day. In the 1800s, many families in Germany, especially Protestant ones, marked the season by drawing one chalk line on a door or wall each day, so the marks grew like a row of tiny fence posts. Others lit a candle each evening or hung a new religious picture each day. In 1839, a Hamburg minister named Johann Hinrich Wichern made a wooden wheel of candles for the children in his care, with small candles for weekdays and larger ones for Sundays, and it is often seen as the ancestor of the Advent wreath.

Chalk marks wipe away easily, and in a way, so does the record of who deserves the credit for the calendar we know today. Some historians and collectors point to handmade countdowns from the 1800s and argue that the idea belongs to countless families whose names were never written down. Others credit Lang, who published printed calendars in Munich in the early 1900s, often dated to around 1908, because printing turned a private household habit into something anyone could buy. Both sides are right about different things: the first group is describing the custom, while the second is describing the product. That distinction matters, because "first" can mean the first person to try an idea or the first person to spread it widely.

Spreading an idea widely takes a good trick, and printers found theirs by the 1920s: little cardboard doors that opened to reveal pictures. Each surprise stayed hidden until its day arrived, which turned waiting into a small daily adventure. Then hard times came, and during World War II paper was difficult to get in Germany, so making calendars became very hard. After the war, publishers began printing them again, and families welcomed the return of a cheerful little tradition. In the decades that followed, calendars with a piece of chocolate behind each door became popular, and the custom spread well beyond Germany.

Chocolate, it turned out, opened the door to nearly every kind of surprise, and today's calendars hide far more than candy. Shoppers can find calendars filled with toy bricks to build a tiny scene, calendars with 24 wrapped books to read one per night, and fabric hangings with a row of socks or pockets to fill at home. Some families make a "reverse" calendar, adding one food item to a box each day to donate to a food bank. Even the numbers hold a puzzle: Advent starts on a Sunday, so the season can last anywhere from 22 to 28 days, yet most calendars simply have 24 doors, one for each day from December 1 through Christmas Eve. A few calendars add a twenty-fifth door so that Christmas Day gets a surprise of its own.

Whether a calendar ends on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, every version does the same job: it makes waiting visible. A chalk line, a candle lit each evening, and a paper door swinging open all answer the question a child might ask, "How many more days?" Notice how the tradition has changed shape without changing purpose, which is why historians can argue over its "first" version and still recognize a calendar when they see one. The materials have moved from chalk to cardboard to chocolate to socks and toy bricks, yet the heart of the custom has stayed the same. Perhaps the most striking part is that, as the story goes, a single impatient question from a boy in Germany helped launch a custom that families now enjoy around the world.