For my next trick
The year was 2013, I had retired from full time public school teaching in November of 2012 and I really had no plan. I had been working in one form or another since I first started delivering papers in the Bronx when I was 10 years old (73 as of this writing to give you perspective). Sue was still teaching full time in the burning cauldron that is Special Education, and was encouraging me to make a plan.
Long story, significantly shortened, I ventured less than a mile down the road to a Catholic K-8 school, started subbing and was quickly offered a part time position. A position I accepted with the caveat that if I wasn’t having fun, I’d give a month’s notice and leave. The first quarter I was already regretting my choice as middle school – I had one 6th, one 7th, and one 8th grade class – is a different beast than the 37 years I had spent teaching high school mathematics.
Then, oddly, a switch flipped after the Thanksgiving break. I not only found myself having fun, but looking forward to each day. The main reason was one of the three classes I taught. The magic that was that 7th grade class made all my doubts wash away. The entire group was very special, and when they left 8th grade in June, I was particularly sad.
You can imagine my excitement when I was notified that one of those kids, now 25, was going to be on the newly redone Star Search on Netflix. TJ Salta, who in seventh and eighth grade was a quiet, studious and occasionally anxious young man, chose to pursue magic after an injury sidelined him from his first love, lacrosse. I saw him several years after he graduated, performing at a local state senator’s home, and he was, frankly, remarkable. He worked as hard at his new love as he did in the classroom mastering algebra, and I made sure to be in front of my TV to see him in 2026.
Spoilers ahead. If you haven’t seen the finale, stop reading now.
Each event leading up to the finale was outstanding. I watched, I cheered, I voted and yes, teared up when he was chosen as the overall winner.
It made me reflect on how similar teaching — and life in general — is to being a magician. You want to keep people engaged and occasionally amazed. You don’t reveal everything at once, and you don’t always show what’s behind the curtain. Instead, you invite them to believe in possibility — to see that what once seemed impossible can happen right before their eyes, and that they might not only do it themselves, but even improve upon it. Like magicians, teachers also rely on “volunteers” to move the lesson forward, and one measure of success is how many are eager to step up and take part.
That brings me to the point of this piece. When Sue and I fully retired in June 2021 and began discussing our next chapter, I asked her — one last time — for a volunteer. She was my audience of one as we considered where to go and what to do next. Hesitantly, she stepped onto the “stage” I had constructed in the form of possible destinations, and after a little figurative abracadabra and sleight of hand, she agreed to come along for the ride.
At this point, I would love to close out with some Warren Zevon, but it really calls more for some Bruce so I’ll work in both. The title of the piece is actually one of my favorite Warren songs, “For My Next Trick, I’ll Need a Volunteer.”
Thank you TJ for bringing this one back to mind. But, it’s a verse from Thunder Road that really needs to play us out today, as a reminder of the faith that my volunteer put in the choices we made.
“Don’t run back inside
Darling, you know just what I’m here for
So you’re scared, and you’re thinking
That maybe we ain’t that young anymore
Show a little faith, there’s magic in the night”
Kevin Fitzpatrick is a retired teacher who, along with his wife Sue (also a retired teacher) is enjoying exploring life in the lowcountry and all it has to offer.
