Up In The Air

As the poet Lionel Richie once wrote: "I had a dream. I had an awesome dream." It began in the dimly lit basement of my parents house. I immediately recognized the wood paneling, and the floor shifted from the rusty brown carpet that was installed after I moved out and the cool white-flecked tile of my youth. As I looked around, I noticed that I was surrounded by children. Many of them were immediately identifiable as students from my school. Others were amalgams of kids I knew from my neighborhood and when I was much shorter. None of them were older than ten.
I was there to teach, as I often am in my dreams, and I chose as my first lesson the Club Sandwich. I felt it was very important to pass along the significance of that extra slice of bread. All of my students were suitably impressed by this tidbit, and we shared a tray of these tasty snacks. When were were done, it was time for the main event.
I lay down on the floor, face against the shifting surface of the floor, and asked the boys and girls in attendance to watch closely as I shut my eyes and began to concentrate. For a moment, I rocked back and forth on my belly, then abruptly I raised off the floor and shot about the room. I was flying just over their heads and outstretched hands. No wires. No tricks. Just pure concentration. When I settled back to the floor, they all wanted to try it.
I watched as they attempted to duplicate my feat. I coached the ones who seemed to strain the most, and encouraged those who had begun to levitate just inches from the ground. All at once, one little girl, a first grader, got it, and she began to zip around the room, nearly careening off the paneling. But she held it together. When she dropped back down to the earth again, her eyes were as wide as her smile. "That was cool!" she exclaimed.
Then I woke up. Sometimes that's what teaching is like.