A nine year old and I entered into an argument in class last week. This happened after a read aloud of a Story involving a wicked witch.

He: Ma'am, this is just a story. Witches are not real.
Me: How do you know they are not real?
He: These things don't happen around us. They happen only it books.
Me: Have you ever met a witch? If you haven't how can you say that you will not meet one tomorrow?
He: There are no witches ma'am.
Me: Wait till you meet one and wait till she turns you into a rabbit for saying that witches are not real!

It saddens me when children do not believe in stories. We read so we can live other lives, experience other worlds. Then why this detachment at such a young age? Even at the threshold of middle age, sometimes I'm shocked to find myself holding my breath in a particularly racy or scary book. I've found my eyes grow moist when I turn the last page in a novel.  Then why shouldn't a nine year old be able to dream and live in a fantasy world? Why should he not be able to imagine that the troll really does live under that bridge?

What are we doing to our children that they stop believing in Santa Claus, in stories and in the wonders of life? Isn't God also a belief?