Principal Merkin sighed as he opened the door to classroom B. It was as he expected and feared; all of the children – about forty or so second graders – were hunched over their cheap wood desks, silent and concentrating. For a moment, Principal Merkin is amused, realizing the irony – he is disturbed by too much silence, too much concentrating. What a gift such a problem would have seemed yesterday! Anytime before this morning, when children from around the world, starting in New Zealand and by now everywhere – began, somehow, all drawing the same pictures, unable to be interrupted, taken away from their art only by force.

“Could it be?” said Principal Merkin, looking over at Ms. Mulva. Ms. Mulva was his favorite of the teachers. She laughed easily and her lips were very large, but most importantly she was the only teacher who was shorter than him. Standing at 5’6 with shoes on, Principal Merkin had long ago thrown out feeling manly when at school, next to all the high-heeled women, and towering men.
            “I’m afraid so.”

“What exactly?”

Ms. Mulva looked at him, trying not to smile. This new Principal was always so serious. Not in a way like he was trying to control her, or frighten her, but because he seemed to not realize how else to be. There was something very erotic about that to Ms. Mulva, long married to a man who embarrassed her with his silliness. So many times, home with her husband, she had thought of Principal Merkin.

“Breasts, sir. The children are drawing breasts.”

“The girls too?”

“Especially the girls.”
“What do you mean, ‘especially’ the girls?”

“I mean the girls draw larger breasts, pointer nipples. Some have milk shooting out. Some fire.”

“Well what about the boys?”

“Theirs aren’t as detailed. Usually no nipples. In fact, most of the boys are have just been drawing circles over and over on top of each other. They end up looking more like twin-tornados than anything else. Or sloppy infinite symbols.”

“But why?”

“I have no idea.’

Ms. Mulva could feel her face prickling as she began to blush. She had never lied to Principal Merkin before, and it made her feel a little naughty to do so now. The truth was, Ms. Mulva felt she did understand the situation, even if she couldn’t put it into words.

Principal Merkin looked down as Ms. Mulva shot him a strange smile. It was as if she could see his dirty secret; nothing about this situation was strange to him. He looked up, and out to the mesmerized children, and marveled that things had not come to this even sooner.