She was a real lanky winner, a first grade teacher. Her words were sizzling butter, and their little minds were popcorn kernels on the verge of exploding. Each lecture was a sermon, each student was a miracle of God. They raised their hands and she would point. They spoke, she redirected. It was a symphony of shared experiences. Yeah, there were trouble-makers and rabble-rousers, but they disappeared like ghosts in snow. There were ideas and clever drawings made from crayon. There were silly jokes and fancy objects at the show and tell. Sizzling butter flooded their ambiance. Miracle children floated on their fancy objects, passing lonely, angry ghosts trapped in snow.