If it so happens, as it sometimes does, that you walk along Magnetic Creek (which flows up rather than down) early in the morning and cross the endless woods, you may come into a little clearing where a very old schoolhouse has stood from time beyond memory. If it is the right day and time, whenever that might be, you will find a quaint grade seven class with a blue boy staring out the window and restlessly tapping his finger. As it so happens, today the little boy blue was doing neither of these things but was rather waiting patiently at his desk – since today was different! Today was Magic Class …
