I had an interesting thought about ten minutes before starting this post. It involved my future as a teacher, and I feel it'd be best served done as a narrative...
A new school year, new students, and new hair cut. I felt quite enamored with my life as the final bell rang, signaling the start of the first class of the new year. I remembered, as I place myself securely behind my podium (an idea I got from one of my teachers when I was in high school) in the front of the class, being these bright-eyed young minds on their first day at high school. Yes, when I was their age, high school seemed like it'd be ever-lasting, and I'd quickly found that the system somehow managed to cram four years into what felt like one. "Hi, I'm Ms. Bushman, and I'll be teaching freshman Language Arts this year for those of you who don't switch schedules to be with friends in other classes. I stayed up too late on the internet last night, so instead of assigning you a biographical essay like I had planned, we're going to do some touchy-feely getting to know you type stuff instead. But first, I have to take attendance. Oh, by the way," I say, reaching into my podium, "this is a 'shut-up' ball. If any of you talk while I'm taking attendance, you'll get to see one up close at a faster than stationary velocity."
The class falls silent and I take that as my cue to begin kicking ass and taking names, which, in my vocation, means calling out a name, looking furtively about the room and marking down those students who are obviously morons for missing my class. I make it flawlessly through three names (Jon Allen? Here. Patricia Anderson? Also here. Beau Beaumont? You have a stupid name, but you're also here.) before my brain detects something wrong with my attendance list. "Sakura Brodzinsky?" Sakura, as I know from my many years as an anime fan at their age, is Japanese, and the girl that just raised her hand was clearly Russian or Polish or French. I would wager a month's pay that she was about as Asian as French fries are French. I make an outward gesture of skepticism, in this case raising my eyebrow as if to say, "is that really your name, or is anime in vogue again?"
"That's an interestingly Asian name for a decidedly European girl," I said, trying not to sound too horribly mocking. "How did you get it?"
"Ah, uhm, my mom..." She fell into incoherent mumbling, her face growing red with embarrassment.
"I was named after a character on Star Trek, and even I think that kind of odd," I say, forgetting myself for a moment. She turns beet red. Open mouth, insert foot. A survey around the room and a quick scan of the attendance tells me I've got at least five other students in the same boat. "Which isn't to say it isn't a good name," I say quickly, failing to recover from my blunder.
"What's Star Trek?" one boy asks, unintentionally saving me from the situation at hand.
I'm glad for the topic change. "It was a TV show. It was actually before my time, so I'm not sure why I bother bringing it up in front of you guys. I doubt any of you know what I'm-."
I'm interrupted as another student asks, "wasn't that that show in the Naughties about that Captain Archer guy?"
My face darkens. This has long been a sore spot for me as a fan of the Star Trek universe. "Enterprise was not Star Trek; it was failure."
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