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November 16 was the first official day of basketball season, and there was a new energy in the air. Kids weren’t talking about basketball any more than usual, but most of the kids just seemed happier all of a sudden. Most of the kids. Not Duke. Not Thomas. So Emily’s seventh period creative writing class was still on an even keel.
Until Hailey read her persona poem aloud, which was written from the point of view of a basketball hoop.
Duke groaned.
Emily tried to shush him, but it was too late.
“What?” Hailey snapped defensively.
“What? You seriously need to ask? The teacher says you can write from the perspective of literally anything or anyone in the universe, and you pick a basketball hoop?”
Hailey looked at Emily, waiting for her to intervene.
“You’re right, Duke. She could write about anything, and this is what she chose. You don’t have to like it. It’s art, which is always subjective. But you do have to respect it, and respect Hailey.”
Duke rolled his eyes. “I do respect Hailey. She’s one of the good ones, but you don’t understand, Miss Morse. This is only the first day. Soon it’s all we’ll hear about. Scores and Heal points will be announced over the intercom. Box scores will be taped to lockers. Everyone will wear jerseys to school, but only on game days because they don’t even come on non-game days, ’cause they’re oh so tired.”
“That’s not true,” Hailey snapped. “I always come to school.”
“I know you do, but like I said”—he looked around the room as if for affirmation—“you’re one of the good ones. You can’t tell me that your teammates don’t take advantage of the situation.”
Emily didn’t know what to say, and the room was pregnant with the awkward silence.
“He has a point,” Thomas added.
“You’re just jealous,” Hailey said, though it was unclear whom she was speaking to.
Duke assumed it was him. “I am not jealous. I have no desire to be part of the nightmare you’re living in.”
“The nightmare that’s already getting me recruited by colleges?”
Duke snorted. “Yeah right. Like you’re going to college.”
“Duke!” Emily sprang to life. “That’s enough out of you!”
“Sorry,” Duke said to Emily, noticeably not Hailey, “but these so-called athletes never play in college. They don’t even go to college. Or if they do, they come back after one semester with their tail between their legs. This is a Class D school. It’s like being a superstar in a mud puddle.”
Thomas laughed.
“Thomas!” Chloe scolded.
“You know what,” Emily declared, desperate to regain some semblance of control, “everyone, open your laptops. I want you to write an essay—”
“An essay?” Thomas whined. “But this is creative writing!”
“OK fine, it can be a poem. A poem or essay about the following topic ...” She typed “Basketball is/isn’t good for this island” on her laptop, and the words appeared on the interactive board. “You choose a stance and then defend it. At least fifty lines or five hundred words. Ready, go.”
They groaned, but they opened their laptops and the room filled with the clicks of keys, some clicks more emphatic than others.
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Coach Milton Darling met Emily at the door the next morning. “You told your students to write an essay about how basketball isn’t good for this island?” By the time he finished his accusation, his face was only inches from hers.
She would look back on this moment and wistfully think how easy it would have been to say, “Get out of my face” and keep on walking. But in that moment, she was intimidated, and frozen.
“Well?” he prodded.
“You don’t have the whole story—”
“I don’t need the whole story. Stop messing with my basketball players. I’m not going to tell you again.” He turned and swaggered toward the gym.
When she got to her classroom, she was crying.
“What’s wrong?” Chloe and Thomas asked at the same time.
She shook her head. “Just teacher junk. I’ll be fine.”
“Did James break up with you?” Thomas asked.
This brought on a whole new onslaught of tears. How could he break up with her if she wasn’t even his girlfriend? She suddenly longed for him. She could tell him about what had just happened, and surely he’d have good advice.
“No,” she said to Thomas. “He sure didn’t.”
“Can I pray over you?” Chloe asked softly.
“Oh, I am so out of here,” Thomas said, but he didn’t move.
Emily smiled. “Actually, that would help, if you’re comfortable doing so.”
“Of course!” Chloe popped up out of her chair, came around Emily’s desk, and placed a gentle hand on her teacher’s shoulder. They both bowed their heads, and Thomas stared at them. “Father, I ask to reach into this situation right now. I don’t know what’s going on, but you do. Please touch Miss Morse’s heart right now and give her comfort and peace, so that she can focus on her students today. In Jesus’ name I pray, amen.”
“Amen,” Emily repeated. She raised her head to meet Thomas’s eyes, and what she saw there was mostly curiosity. “You know, Thomas, it’s not all just a bunch of bunk. Jesus is very real, and he’s involved in all aspects of our lives. If you ever have any questions, talk to Chloe or me, OK?”
The bell rang, giving Thomas a chance to escape, but he didn’t take it. “You really believe it’s all true, don’t you?”
Emily nodded. “It is all true.”
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Chloe’s prayer worked wonders, and by lunch, Emily was in better spirits than she’d been in for weeks. Not only did she have a plan, she fully believed the plan had been downloaded straight from God.
After her creative writing students settled into their seats, Emily announced, “We’re all going to share our basketball essays, but first, we’re each going to write a second piece, and this time you’re going to take the opposite viewpoint you took yesterday. So, if yesterday, you wrote ‘Basketball is good for this island,’ then today, you’re going to write ‘Basketball isn’t good for this island.’ Any questions?” She didn’t give them a chance to raise any. “OK, good, get started.”
There was some moaning and muttering, but they did all get started. Except for Hailey. She just sat there, her face worried.
“What is it, Hailey?” Emily whispered.
“I want to do this, Miss Morse, but I’m afraid I’ll get in trouble.”
Shoot, Emily thought. “OK, well, what if you type it up, and I’ll read it right on your screen, and then we’ll delete it? We never even have to print it out.”
Hailey thought about that for a moment. “But I still will have written it. I still think Milton will find out.”
Emily thought this completely ridiculous, but she saw real fear on Hailey’s face and that made her heart hurt.
“OK.” Emily lowered her voice even more. “Why don’t you write a poem about something else right now? We’ll just let you skip this part of the assignment.”
Hailey’s face lit up, which lit up Emily’s heart. And just like that, she had done it again. Making special allowances for basketball players was becoming a habit.
