obeying the teacher rules (1)

I loved school growing up.

It's not like I was some overly-sappy kiss up to the teacher, but I definitely worked hard to be the best in my classes. In almost every class I had, after maybe fifth grade, I'd picture how I'd teach the class.

It was almost too distracting when someone wasn't good at their job.

My folders were clutched in my arms as I made my way through the school. The entire campus was quiet, save for the couple of teachers who were wondering the halls. It was nice, like the quiet before the storm.

My mind was bubbling over with ideas.

Eventually I wanted to be a middle school science teacher. I wanted to educate children on the world around us, and imbue them with a sense of wonder and joy. For now, though, I was going to have to work with college aged students.

My stomach fluttered nervously as I let myself into the classroom I'd be working in that day. It was a large, tall room, with a wall of tall windows that were currently letting in the pale morning light.

Instead