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There were about two hundred kids out at recess. Some were on the jungle gym. Some were in the parking lot playing kickball. Some were on the field playing soccer. Some were running around in the trees, pretending to be horses.
All of a sudden, there was chaos. It was like a bomb went off. But instead of exploding and blowing everything away, it imploded and sucked us all in. The shockwave spread as each grade-schooler looked around frantically and then started running in the same direction as everyone else. Without knowing why, we all converged on the soccer field.
I was one of the last ones to get there. There was already a crowd gathered. I fought my way through—slipping between arms, crawling between legs. Once I found the center, I got one glimpse of what was causing all the commotion, before a teacher reached in and snatched it away.
It was a picture in a magazine of a naked woman in a bathtub.
In an instant, I learned more about the world—about why wars are fought, why poetry is written, why humans keep on living and dying—than I had in all my schooling up to that point.