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Changing Classes

The air in the classroom was stale and hot. Two dozen students were on their phones- texting or checking Facebook. Few were actually talking. None were paying attention. It was the first day of class and the teacher was nowhere to be seen.

A strange bird call heralded the arrival of an older man whose long grey hair rolled down off a bald crown, like a mountaintop peeking through the snow. He pulled the door shut behind him as he came in.

“Think this is our teacher?” One student asked another.

“I dunno, ask him.” The other student replied absently, intent on his iphone.

“You our teacher?”

The old man didn’t answer nor did he give any indication that he heard the question at all. He opened a black briefcase bag and carefully took out a stained roll of cloth which
he unrolled in front of him. The contents were hidden behind the podium.

“What class is this?” he asked.

“Anthropology.”

Light reflected off a stainless steel scalpel blade that peeked out into view.

“Let’s turn it into abnormal psychology.”

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