The terribly important stoy of... Why in the third grade I was sent from class to class to sing...wait for it...the Rainbow Connection

The masses have spoken (all 4 of you), and the winner this week is The Rainbow Connection story -- hands down. It is another tale of tragic nerdiness that reinforces the chilling power of music to change lives and timeless impact of one, Kermit the Frog.

Picture it.

An anxious blond boy on the road to chubby breaths heavily in the boys bathroom of Springbrook Elementary. He is alone, leaning over the sink, clutching the smooth, cold porcelin in his blood-drained fingers, and staring at himself, sweaty and white, in the tattered mirror. Outside, he hears the masses of first graders stamping their feet, an external anticipating heartbeat thumping almost as loudly as his own. He breaths deeply. "You can do this," he assures himself, "just one last time."

The heavy, wooden door to the boys room creaks open behind him and Ms. Fegan, the first-grade teacher, enters slowly.

"They're calling your name," she says softly, aware of his nerves and in awe of the talent encapsulated in the small, but ever expanding body.

"I can't," he stutters, doubt overtaking him, "Dammit, I can't do it."

She eyes him for a moment, unsure of herself, and then says, "I've seen something remarkable this last week. I've seen these delinquent, inner-city first graders who no one expected anything from but trouble, turn their lives around because of the power of music, the power of your gift." She steps toward him cautiously, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Because of you," she whispers, "these kids may just have a chance at life. Don't take that away."

"I don't know if I can go out there," he heaves, haunted by the taunts of his fellow third graders who have recently started calling him Kermit the Fag.

"Dammit, Brett, you're a performer," she exclaims, "As natural as I've ever seen. Now, get out there and fulfill your purpose. Perform to save these kids. Perform...to save yourself."

Finally he looks at her, her eyes ablaze with passion and hope, and feels somewhat comforted. He nods.

As he enters the class full of rowdy first-graders, a hush falls over the room. Small faces full of marvel and wonder gaze up at the boy they've heard so much about. He looks entirely unremarkable -- pushing chubby and wearing a slightly clingy grey track suit and small wire glasses -- but his reputation has become large amongst these kids, and they both respect and fear his influence.

The lights dim, and the guitar begins; softly...slowly...a light shines on a young boy, his back turned to the silent crowd.

"Why are there so many songs about rainbows, and what's on the other side..."

His voice is like honey, sweet and gentle, but containing a power unknown to anyone, both beautiful and dangerous.

"Rainbows are vision, and only illusions; Rainbows have nothing to hide..."

He turns slowly, the light bouncing off his thin glasses as though radiating directly from him. There are gasps.

"So we've been told and some chose to believe it; I know their wrong, wait and see...Someday, we'll find it -- the Rainbow Connection -- the lovers, the dreamers and me."

The tremulous strumming of the guitar slows and the lights dim as darkness momentarily settles over the room. Then, suddenly, with the explosive energy of a nuclear bomb, the band kicks in, loud and vibrant. Colored lights burst into the room, moving like fireflies across the sea of faces, and the tempo builds, a la Proud Mary by Tina Turner, to a bouyant, racing speed. Brett, now wearing a sequin headband, dances energetically to the beat, his feet thumping, his eyes closed, his hands gripping the microphone as though connected somehow. Then, a voice erupts completely unlike the first, powerful and imposing.

"WHO SAID THAT EVERY WISH-AH, WOULD BE HEARD AND ANSWERED -- OH YEAH -- WHEN WISHED ON THAT MORNING STAR..."

There are squeals of delight from the crowd, now a kinetic heap of bobbing heads, rocking out to pure musical inspiration. As he sings, Brett punches his hands wildly in the air, the sequin headband emitting a flashing halo of light around his flailing head, his legs jogging freely like something out of flashdance. Somewhere in the thick air of genius filling the room, Brett loses his shirt and is now the epitome of rock in track pants and reeboks, first graders flying everywhere in what has become a mosh pit of inspiration.

"SOMEDAY WE'LL FIND IT -- THE RAINBOW CONNECTION -- THE LOVERS, YEAH, THE DREAMERS, YEAH AND MEEEEEEE!!!!"

The last note swells into a shriek that would make Robert Plant himself proud and jealous. Strobes bouce through the classroom, freezing the sight of delinquint first graders coloring over their schoolyard gang symbols with chalk and finger paints, expelling their previously troubled existences for a new life devoted to inspirational rock. At the center of the commotion, Brett, in his shining sequin headband and elastic ankled track pants, smiles widely.

The lights come up and the crowd erupts. Ms. Fegan runs to the stage and pulls Brett into a tight embrace. Her face is streaked with cheap mascara as she yells to him over the roar of first-graders, "I BELIEVE!" she cries, "I BELIEVE IN THE POWER OF RAINBOWS!!"

The rest of the day fades into Rock History, and Brett, knowing he has succeeded never performs again.

And that is the terribly important story of why, in the third grade, I was sent from class to class to sing a rocking version of the Rainbow Connection.

For full lyrics from the Rainbow Connection (to see how truly nerdy I was) visit:
http://www.lyricsdownload.com/kermit-the-frog-the-rainbow-connection-lyrics.html