My Proof of Survival: Now You See Me

As far back as I can remember, I’ve always been different from other kids. For “show and tell,” my friends would bring in the usual things — toys, hamsters, and such. I would bring in crystals and explain what they were used for. Unfortunately, at that time I was attending a Catholic school. They felt this wasn’t appropriate, but in my family, it was.

The trouble really began when I was in the second grade. I discovered a form of bilocation quite by accident. (This happens while you are awake — when your body is in one place, but someone sees you somewhere else.) The possibilities seemed endless, especially to a seven-year-old. Unfortunately, it can be a little difficult to control at that age. As soon as I got bored, my mind would wander. Usually this was during math class, and my favorite place to go was the school library. I would much rather be looking at books than boring math problems.

Two unfortunate things came out of this boredom. First, my math teacher labeled me as a daydreamer. This caused an endless series of notes being sent home to my mother. Second and worst, the person monitoring the library every day was the principal, Sister Estelle. She constantly questioned why I wasn’t in class. I never answered her — the real me was sitting back in math class. Now, not only was I labeled a daydreamer, but I was rude and skipping class. Put it all together and you get a problem child — at least in her eyes.

After a week of this, Sister Estelle confronted my teacher about the situation. Looking back now, I wonder why she waited so long. My teacher informed her that she had to be mistaken. I had been in her class all week, and I was there now. Poor Sister Estelle, looking totally confused, assured my teacher that she ­wasn’t losing her mind. She was positive I had been in the library. Sister Estelle stuck to her guns and called for a parent-principal conference.

Upon hearing this I knew I was in big trouble, but I couldn’t understand what she was so upset about. It never occurred to me that not everyone could do this.

That evening I tried to explain the situation to my mother. I was expecting the worst, after seeing how upset Sister Estelle got. Well, something surprising happened. Instead of grounding me for life, my mother just smiled and laughed. Now she understood the reason behind the notes and the frantic call from Sister Estelle. She calmly explained to me the reason my principal was so upset.

Then she called Peggy, a friend of hers who dealt with children who had unusual talents. The two of them went to the conference together and faced Sister Estelle. When I asked her what happened, all she said was, “We told her the truth.”

After that, Sister Estelle avoided me whenever possible.

Eventually, I learned to control this talent with Peggy’s help. It came in handy when other strange talents popped up as I got older.

I just turned 18, and I’ll be leaving for college this fall. Do you think my professors will know if it’s the real me sitting in class? — Calley R., Punxsutawney, PA.