Teacher Vision

Mrs. Emily Lennon was the first one to name it. I didn’t even know I could do it. It was the nineties and I was in fourth grade. 

“Look at it with your eyes out of focus. You can cross your eyes and then bring them uncrossed slowly. Or you can try to look past the poster. A new image should appear. Be patient and keep trying.” 

We were starting a unit about space. Mrs. Lennon hung a Magic Eye poster on the classroom door. The obvious, surface image was a cosmic swirl of stars over the partial horizon of a blue planet. As a class, we set about crossing and uncrossing our eyes. 

A hushed moment passed. I heard someone whisper, "Do what?" in confusion. Then Brian’s hand shot up and he blurted out, “I see it!”

Mrs. Lennon stood coyly and brought one finger to her lips. Quietly and calmly, she said, “If you see it, kindly keep it to yourself for one more minute so that others have a chance to discover it for themselves.” Brian’s hand went down, but he turned and made wild gestures with his arms at his neighbors. When a minute passed, Mrs. Lennon said, “Turn and talk with your neighbor. Ask them if they have seen the hidden image. Can you tell what it is? What do you know about it? What questions do you have about it?”

My eyebrows hurt from squinting and concentrating, but I’d seen something. Not so much an image, but maybe a hologram? It moved. 

I turned to Sierra to chat. “I didn’t see anything,” she said dryly, and we both laughed. She pushed her dark glasses up her nose. 

“The poster is of space, but we're supposed to see something different in it. Like mixed in the stars I guess. I saw a dog and a person. Like a Halloween dog and person. Like their bones,” I said.

“You mean skeletons?” 

“Yeah, skeletons. But they were moving. And they were big. The dog was wagging its tail. The person touched it,” I said.

“Cool. I can imagine that. Like TV?”

“Yeah, kind of.”

Mrs. Lennon held up one hand and the class quieted. She looked around in silence for a moment. 

“Kenzie,” she called on me, “can you describe what you saw?”

I sighed to acknowledge what a lot of work it would be to answer, then I said, “It’s a dog and a person. But like Halloween. They’re skeletons. And they move.” 

A few giggles rippled through the room. I wasn't trying to be funny.

Mrs. Lennon made a puzzled face. “No, that’s not correct. But it’s creative.” She looked around again. “Stuart, what did you see?”

“A spaceship. Like an airplane spaceship," Stuart moved his hands to show the size of it. 

“It's called a Shuttle,” Brian blurted. Mrs. Lennon gave him a stern glance for talking out of turn. 

Someone knocked on the door behind the cosmic Magic Eye poster. Mrs. Lennon walked to the door and opened it. Mrs. Herschel, the school secretary, and Nova, the seeing-eye-dog, came in. Mrs. Herschel walked Nova to Sierra’s desk then turned to leave. 

“Nova did his business. He should be content for a while,” Mrs. Herschel said to Mrs. Lennon as she headed towards the door. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Herschel,” Mrs. Lennon said, but she was staring at me. She was thinking about something. She had a peculiar look on her face.

We talked about space shuttles and how they carry humans into space. Then Mrs. Lennon explained the different interactive stations we were going to cycle through for the next hour until the end of the day. There was a station to draw our galaxy based on a 3D model. There was a station with a large funnel to roll coins into and paper to sketch the coins’ orbits. There was a book station where we would choose a short book about space and write a summary paragraph on it. There was a station with a flashlight on a swivel beside a basketball connected to a softball by tape and a paper towel tube that was for creating eclipse scenarios.

And, most consequentially, there was a memory game station in which six pairs of objects were covered by opaque cups. The objects were two toy shuttles, two toy satellites, two Earths, two Moons, two Saturns, and two moon rovers. To play, the objects were covered by the cups and shuffled around on the table top until all the participating students were satisfied that no one had any idea what was where. Then, in turns, we students lifted one cup and then another. If the two items matched, we kept them and continued until we didn’t find a match. If they didn’t match, the cups went back over the objects. It was just like a memory game with cards. 

I found myself at the memory station first. I was still upset about the poster. I stared at it again with concentration. I crossed my eyes and furrowed my brow. I felt like I could see through the surface image, but now I didn’t see the dog and human skeletons. I was frustrated. I turned my attention to the cups as the first game started. 

“Sierra can be on my team,” I said to the others. They nodded. She petted Nova. 

“You can go first then, Kenzie,” Stuart said to me. 

I looked at the cups. I wanted to win. I felt dumb after the poster discussion. I concentrated. Pale shapes appeared beneath the cups. I could see orbs. I could see rough-edged rectangles. Some had wheels. Some had wings. I chose a cup with an orb and lifted it. Beneath it sat a small Earth. I concentrated again and found another cup with an orb shape that was the same size. I lifted that cup. Beneath it sat the second Earth. 

“Wow, lucky start,” said Stuart. 

I passed the Earths to Sierra and she felt them. “Good work,” she said. “Which planet is it?”

“The earth,” I said. “It’s still our turn.”

"Earth to Kenzie," Sierra said and giggled to herself.

I concentrated again. I found one of the rough-edged rectangles with wheels. I lifted the cup and found a moon rover. With my brow furrowed and eyes slightly crossed, I found the second moon rover and lifted the cup. I passed the rovers to Sierra. 

“Is this an easy game?” Sierra asked.

“Well, yes,” said Stuart. “But Kenzie’s just getting lucky. We haven’t even learned where any of them are. She’s just guessing.”

I matched all six on the first turn. 

“How did you do that?” Sierra asked as I handed her the final set, the satellites. 

“I can see them,” I whispered to her, “but only a little.” 

“Did you see them get covered and remember them?” Stuart asked. “Turn around while I shuffle them this time. No cheating.” 

We played a second time and I cleared the board in one turn again. Mrs. Lennon was standing behind me. She had the same peculiar look on her face. She returned the objects to the table, placed the cups over them, and shuffled them thoroughly. She watched me while she did it. 

“Go again, Kenzie,” she said.

I matched all six sets immediately. 

Another student called out from across the room, “Mrs. Lennon! Brian took the coins! We can’t do the funnel orbits.” It was Chelsey.

“Brian, did you take the coins?” Mrs Lennon asked. 

“No! I didn’t!” he whined. “She just keeps blaming me. I'm looking for them. I want to do the funnel too.”

I looked at them and did the concentration and eye crossing. I gasped. I could see their bones! I could also see coins in Chelsey’s pockets. 

“Are you okay, Kenzie?” Mrs. Lennon asked me. 

I tugged her shirt at the elbow so she’d get close. She stooped and brought her head towards mine. I whispered where the coins were. Mrs. Lennon looked me in the eyes. She stood. She walked to the funnel station. 

“Do it again, Kenzie,” Stuart said. “I want to learn how to do your trick too.” 

But I was watching the funnel station. Chelsey followed Mrs. Lennon into the hallway. They were behind the cosmic Magic Eye poster. I did the trick and I could see two skeletons. There was a tall one and a short one. When they came back in, Chelsey was crying softly and she went to her desk and sat alone. 

Mrs. Lennon came over quietly and asked me to stay after school for just a few minutes when the class ended. She assured me that I wasn’t in trouble. But I was starting to feel scared. Seeing skeletons was shocking. Chelsey was a liar and a thief, and she'd tried to get Brian in trouble. Stuart was accusing me of being a liar and a deceiver. I was feeling sad.

“Are you okay, Kenzie?” Sierra asked. 

“Let’s do the books station,” I suggested. We found kids to switch us. 

That afternoon, Mrs. Lennon tested me. She did poses behind the door and then had me imitate them. She was seeing if I could see through the door. She kept pushing the partially closed door open with her foot to see if I was doing it right. It was weird. 

“I wouldn’t tell anyone about your power just yet,” she said.

“Shouldn’t I tell my parents?”

“If you want to, you can.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” I asked. 

“You’ll probably scare them, but you can tell them. I think you should decide how you want to use it. Kenzie, you did something good with it today. That’s important. Use it for good. Only for good.” She held my eyes with hers for a full minute.

I found her cancer later that year. She had been acting tired for weeks. She had a light, dry cough that wouldn’t stop. I stayed in during lunch and told her my theory and what I could see in her body. In the end, it wasn’t soon enough to save her, but she was amazed that I spotted it and that I was correct. 

“You’re a healer, Kenzie.” She told me privately. “I think you’re a shamanic healer. Or perhaps a superhero. You have powers. Use them for good, always.”

That was the last thing she told me one on one.

She told the class about her condition, and she introduced the substitute who would take over our class for the remainder of the year. She boxed up some possessions. She gave us a tearful but loving farewell at the end of the school day.