I bolted into my web design class on the very first day, afraid I would be late even though I ended up being 3 minutes early. I entered the room and immediately heard the insanely great sounds of many computers. *click *click *click went the Razer Mamba mouse, excited to have a professional gamer nearby.  *tac *tac *tac went the keyboards, flying through lines of code like ceiling fans; swift, precise, and always on time. I could smell the vivid aroma of fresh mouses and laptops that had been purchased recently.

I sat down in the seat with the best view of the whiteboard, where a previous lesson about user interface was left unerased in black marker. So that’s what we’re doing today, I thought to myself. Already knowing exactly what to do, I turned on my computer and begin today’s lesson, a small smile playing at my lips as I found that all of my favorite software had already been installed and ready to run. 

The background was a light green honeycomb with several faint strings of ones and zeroes far off in faded lines. I took a moment to admire the originality and beautifully organized nature of the artwork, falling into a brief daydream about infinite honeycomb planes and black holes constructed of ones and zeroes.

“Caleb!” called my teacher. Alarmed to realize that my name was being called, I flinched and turned around. “Did you bring your permission slip for the trip to Parkland this month?” asked Mr. Plaid. “And don’t forget to have it signed by a parent,” he added quickly. “I have it right here,” I replied, frantically flipping through my binder to find the right paper. In my binder, I noticed the following assignments: Introduction to Algebra, What is Science, and Short Autobiography. I located the permission slip with the fast-paper-finding skills of a color sensing robot, and handed it to Mr. Plaid, realizing for the first time that this was going to be a great year.

Insanely
great.