I have decided that since I have a tendency to write science fiction and fantasy, with a special emphasis on the fantasy part, I should actually be able to do magic. It doesn’t take a lot of self-examination to see that it is so.
As a teacher I know several powerful magic spells. I have the power to put teenagers into a deep and restful sleep. All I have to do is start a lesson focus and heads drop to desks and snore-music fills the part of the room that my blah-blah doesn’t. I also have a powerful ability to make teenagers hate things. All I have to do is testify with my best honest-to-goodness face that something is good for them, and they will thoroughly hate it. Protein at breakfast is good for you? Gotta hate that. Independent reading of books is good for you? I have just made the entire school library radioactive by saying it. Think what good a teacher could do if the principal would only let them say, “Illegal drugs are good for you!” or, “You should join a street gang, it would be good for you!” or even, “Racial prejudice is a good thing for our white society!” (I know I would never actually feel good about saying those things, and I could never make the proper honest-to-goodness face, but that last thing was actually tried by a teacher I once worked with… he said it because he believed it… and even the white kids were instantly up in arms and got that teacher fired. Come to think of it, that was the only lesson he ever taught that I actually approved of.) An even more powerful teacher magic is to forbid things. Anything forbidden by a teacher or a teacher’s rules is the only thing they want to do. I was able to get kids to read more by forbidding them to read library books during lessons. I found it strengthened the urge to occasionally catch them doing it and lecture them about how they will end up unable to flip burgers at McDonald’s because they will let interesting and complicated stuff get in the way of mindlessly doing repetitive tasks.
I have an amazing magical power over stoplights. I can unfailingly turn them bright red just by approaching them, no matter what color they were five and a half seconds before. If I am in a hurry, I have the power to make that red light last for more than the three minutes that is supposed to be the maximum for the cycle.
I can also make old people (of course I mean other old people) drive slower in the fast lane by driving behind them. I can make young guys in Bubba trucks zoom in front of me and nearly kill me simply by having a few inches of space between my front bumper and the rear end of the car I’m following. I don’t know how they fit those big old Chevys and Ford Broncos and Dodge Rams in those little spaces which are less than half as long as their vehicles, and do it while using one hand to give me the finger out their window. I suppose they have fold-able bones like a rat so they can squeeze through tight places.
I suppose the magical power I am proudest of is my ability to magically make people laugh at me. (Yes, they always say they are laughing with me, not at me… but we all know how humor really works. We laugh because we are really happy that it didn’t happen to us!) I am able to put on the clown nose and people automatically laugh almost as hard as they laugh at me without the clown nose. I am able to say things in weird words that stimulate your brain to shout silently in your head, “That jest ain’t right!”, and you automatically think, “Funny!” So, with all this magical power, I have concluded… I am a wizard!