The first elementary school my kids went to had a basketball court on their playground. It was a full proper court with nice nets hanging from orange metal rims. They were popular during recess, but they also got plenty of play from all sorts of folks who lived in the community. 

It was not uncommon for late-afternoon pickup games to happen. When school let out, the bus-riding kids would pass through the court to get to their line-up spot. Typically, when kids appeared, the game would pause long enough to let the little ones through. Community cooperation at its finest. 

Then, one day, a new set of regulars showed up and did not stop their game when the kiddos arrived, even when asked to stop by the teachers. With some annoyance, the players told the kids and the adults to walk around and continued their play. Being on the big and scary side, the teachers ushered the kids around the court. 

After this happened a second time, it was reported to the school office. The next day the principal arrived court side shortly before school let out and told the young men they were welcome to use the court but when the kids were going to their busses, they had to stop playing and let them pass. In turn, they told her what they told the teachers—walk around. 

She explained that wouldn’t work because they had to consider the safety of the children. They were big men, and these were small children, and they couldn’t risk them passing so closely to a game where the ball or men could come off the court and hit one of them. The men were not moved by this argument and told her that sounded like a you-problem and was not of their concern. In short, she could piss off. The well-appointed woman thanked them for their time, turned, and returned to the building. 

The next day, when the young men arrived at the court, the orange, newly netted rims were unexpectedly missing from each of the backboards. It seems they were right about the “you-problem”. They just didn’t realize the “you” they were dealing with, who might have weighed ninety pounds and looked like a life-long librarian, had more wit than the ten of them combined.

Two weeks later, the rims were returned (those players did not), and the bus-riding children happily and safely went about their business. There are few things I find more beautiful in this world than an elegant solution to an obstinate and unnecessary problem.