As a boy, I treasured the stories that spoke of kingdoms of various kinds, and, incredibly, it turns out that I’ve lived in a thoroughly enchanting kingdom for the past 34 years. My classroom is a conventional one, a small, plain space with tables and chairs, and yet it occasionally lends a feeling, for me, of something surprising and very special. The windows are simply windows, and yet, in daydreams, they sometimes seem like windows in a castle where wizardry regularly occurs. All we do in class is talk of literature and the tools of writing, and yet our words work, for me at least, a strange and superior magic. The princes and princesses in this kingdom are the valiant students who, like knights, endure the trials and tests set up by the age-old, wrinkled king, who, lucky for me, is me. Each day there are rituals which require the students to show their mettle and might, and in each class the king gets to care for his knights in new and honorable ways. There are honors bestowed and gifts given, and sometimes ovations and acclaims are heard coming from the room. It’s just a simple space, just a classroom on a country road in Connecticut, but it’s the kingdom I've counted myself lucky to come to for many, many mornings.