Eureka.
With barely any effort, I managed to create a time machine for hurling into the future. And, as hurling would suggest, I’m a little sick. Please, mister, stop the ride and let me off.
My recipe for time travel:
• 2 parts summer distractions
• 3 parts classes
• ½ part mild procrastination
• 17 parts cluelessness, blissful ignorance, and misdirection
• ¼ part “What have I gotten myself into?”
• 4 parts acute anxiety
Throw all the ingredients together into one super-enthusiastic, no-experience, soon-to-be teacher, shake, and voila!: time travel.
That or I’ve pulled a Rip Van Winkle because I’m 92.4% certain that last week was mid-May. Whatever phenomenon it is at work here, I refuse to believe that in less than a fortnight, I’ll be standing in front of a class of merciless, meat-eating 5th graders!
Perhaps now would be a good time to stock up on barf-bags-I have a feeling this ride isn’t going to slow down for a while.
WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Mr I
