I stood in front of a group of 18-year-olds in a wrinkled sport coat. My pants had a patch underneath the back pocket, so you couldn’t see the holes time had made. I was 28 years old.
I looked at them. I saw them. They looked back at me. But they couldn’t see me. “So, would anyone like to get us started on John Maynard Keynes?” I said. I heard a flurry of typing. “God damn it,” I thought. “I should have banned laptops on the first day.”
All of a sudden they looked right me. The typing stop. “My God…They’ve developed telepathy.” I couldn’t control my fear.
“They can talk!?” I didn’t even bother to correct them. My mind raced. I said the first thing that came to mind. “Yes. What is it?”
“Will this be on the final?”
I heard the sound a MacBook makes when it sends an email. Vroosh. I imagined it was my soul escaping out of the window. For a second, I was free.