BRAIN MAGIC

Sometimes my job is a blast.  Sometimes my job is magical.

Take today, for example.

We just finish reading a short story by Chaim Potok, an unassuming story, a character study, with several layers of nuance undetectable to the untrained eye.  I could bore you here with a litany of blah-biddy-blah-blah literary devices blah-blah-kaflooey author's intent bladdahbladdahbladdah symbolism...

The point is that I know how to unfurl the layers of some stories as easily as the crust flakes off a crescent roll, and today is one of those days.  When I peel it all back and lay out the clues that finally reveal a little secret of symbolism that the author wove into his story, I sit back and wait for the reaction.

Well, I don't exactly sit "back" -- I am sitting up in the front corner of the room on a recovered kitchen stool, my back to the window while facing the entire class from a single corner: optimal angle; I can see them all.

This is one of my favorite moments of the whole school year, and it's almost a shame it has to happen so soon.

We are casually chatting about some symbolism in the story, tying up some important character descriptions, as if we have randomly arrived at this destination.  Casually, oh so very casually, I parade out the major detail about important color symbolism used in the story, and how the author tricked his audience into seeing something without them ever realizing they were seeing it, yet suddenly realizing it was there all along, planted into their subconscious like a well-played trick.

I watch this fact register.

Twenty-seven backs straighten.  Twenty-seven heads tilt.  Twenty-seven mouths drop open.  Twenty-seven sets of eyes widen. Class after class ... until this has happened four times total to one hundred of their growing brains.

A few students actually whisper, "Oh ... my ... god ..." and many of them put their fingers to their temples then quickly pull their hands away in an open bursting motion and yell out, "Mind BLOWN!"

"How did you know that?" they ask me over and over again.  "Did you figure that out by yourself?"

Yes, I tell them, yes, I did.  

I'm trained, I tell them.  I have a Master's Degree in writing, I tell them.  I'm supposed to see this stuff, I tell them.  Now you can see it, too, I tell them.


I love it when they "get it."  I am enchanted when they're enlightened.  It's like watching toddlers on Christmas morning who still believe that anything is impossible.  It's like watching them realize they have the whole world under their feet, and all they have to do is grab hold and enjoy the ride.

Open their brains; pour in the vision; watch their minds glow.  Magic.