Living In A Chick-Film

I am teaching at a large school in a small town. The school is large because it covers all grades, kindergarten through twelfth grade, so it's a very dynamic, busy place. I'm teaching the younger grades, and I'm enjoying it immensely. Lately, the children have started telling me they can do magic, that they can make things move without touching them. Of course, I dismiss this as imaginative play and get on with my work. I don't discourage the kids from creating these stories, but I am very busy.

Meanwhile, the high-school kids have got a new baseball coach. He used to be a major-league coach, but apparently he lost his nerve and chose to retire to this small town. Our baseball team is quite mediocre, and it is going to be a challenge for him to shape them up. There is a cloud hanging over his reputation - something about he blew a big chance he had - but I pay it no mind.

One sunny afternoon, after most of the children have gone home, one little boy - one of my students - comes into my classroom where I am chatting with a fellow teacher. I am telling her about how my kids are still telling me stories of performing magic, when this child interrupts us. He is almost in tears with anger and frustration, and I ask him why he's upset.

The boy tells me that he wants to prove that he can do magic, although the other kids think that showing us is a bad idea - that we won't understand. I'm concerned that this six year old is so agitated by the matter, and I tell him that if it will calm him down, then he should show me what he can do. I'm a little nervous as I tell him this, as I fear he will only get more upset when his magic fails to manifest - because magic doesn't exist.

The little boy cheers up a bit, at that, and points to a ball that had been left of the floor nearby. The boy makes a gesture and a frown of concentration, the red rubber ball slowly rises into the air, circles me and my stunned companion, and comes to rest in the boy's waiting hand. "See, I told you I could do magic." he declares. I give the boy a huge hug and apologize sincerely for doubting him.

Simultaneously, it seems that the baseball coach has finally gotten the break that he was working towards. He has found a prize player amongst the team, a fifteen year-old boy who's a natural hitter. For the first time in recent memory, our team wins a game, and everyone - the kids, their parents and especially the coach - are cheering fit to burst.

From inside my classroom, I can hear the cheering and I smile as I know that life is sweet, very sweet indeed.
Fade.

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