It was the first Saturday of January and my first day teaching a multi-week kids' class. I usually coach adults, and while I've taught kids before, I've never had a class with eight kids in it. Trying to figure out how to keep eight nine-year-olds safe on an extremely busy day on the mountain while simultaneously attempting to actually teach them something felt pretty overwhelming.
I was riding the chairlift with the three of the boys, and we were getting to know each other. The conversation veered as conversations do, especially with kids, and I was jarred from my anxiety by the following exchange:
"Some people think that pink is a girl's color, but I don't think so," said the first boy.
"Yeah, I really like pink," agreed the second boy.
"It's not a girl's color at all," said the first boy.
"Purple too," chimed in the third boy.
"Pink and purple are like my favorite colors," said the first boy.
There are moments when kids reveal something of themselves and you suddenly see clearly an aspect of the adult they'll someday become. A thread stretching forward into the future.
And there are moments, too, when there's no such clarity to the revelation. You recognize the significance of the moment without being able to know what it signifies. In these moments, you witness uniqueness, potential, and the ever-moving-forward. The change that is inherent in all things.
Our society is struggling through challenging times, and as I got to know these kids I witnessed a sensitivity to the world they're living in, far beyond their intellectual and emotional capacity to process. "Make America Great Again," said the man on TV. These children are growing up in a world deeply in flux, surrounded on all sides by the deep fear that things are changing for the worse. (You should have seen how off-kilter the group was the weekend of the inauguration.)
So picture: three nine-year-old boys riding the chairlift together (in the presence of an adult authority figure, no less), all professing a love for pink and purple, an awareness of the broader social significance of that opinion, and a defiance of the norms they see imposed on them.
In that moment as they delight you with their very is-ness, how can you help but see a reason to hope and the potential for magic?