I feel a little odd and old-world this morning, so I’ll use some old-fashioned language and say I hope to behold wondrous things in my classroom today. Actually, that’s my hope everyday, because I’ve become convinced, as my 68 years have passed, that wondrous things happen around me constantly, moment-by-moment, and that all I have to do is open my eyes and behold them. Because the eyes of my mind are usually more closed than open, I have completely missed a countless number of astonishing occurrences - – the slight smiles of students, the way wandering leaves float along in the fall, the sun letting its light down on the walls of my classroom in different ways at different times, the leaning forward of this student and the leaning back of that. I live in the midst of ceaseless miracles, and yet life sometimes seems as featureless as a sheet of paper to my unseeing eyes. Today, though, is a day for wide open eyes and an unfastened mind – a day to truly behold what this impressive universe has prepared for my classroom. Every sentence spoken by the students will be extraordinary, simply because it’s never been spoken before in all of history; every face will shine in ways never seen in the world; every bend and turn of the trees outside the classroom will be beautiful beyond belief. If you can’t see the possibility of this, then perhaps your eyes are just as shut as mine usually are. I wish you a day of simply seeing, like I’m looking forward to today.