“I’m sure you’re all aware of this already, but in your last year of High school, 10th
grade, you will be paired.
"Despite rumors, the process is not random, you and others will be observed and
asked questions to determine who you’d pair well with. You will also get assigned jobs that year. Your job recommendations will be given by your teachers as they observe how you act in school and where your talents lie. So be careful in the next couple of years, they determine the rest of your life.”
A hushed murmuring went through the crowd, as we bet who’d get paired with who and what job they’d have. We were so naive.
The years past until the fateful year of high school, where we’d be receiving the information that would determine the rest of our lives. All of the students in my year sat in the first 3 rows of the auditorium, our family behind us. You could practically feel the tension in the air. My last name is Peters so I have awhile. I zone out as they start with the first person.
“Abigail Adams, step up please,” boomed the headmaster, loudly and clearly. Abby,
as we call her, moved up next to the headmaster and took her diploma, her hands visibly shaking. The headmaster took out a manila envelope from a folder with Abby’s name printed on it in elegant script. With a dramatic flourish, he raised it above his head and opened it slowly.
“Abigail Adams, you shall be a nurse and continue your education with Mrs. Briggs,”
he read, pointing out Mrs. Briggs who was one of the many standing behind him. Abby beamed and walked to Mrs. Briggs, she should be happy, she got a good job. I betted whoever she got paired with would be good too, but we wouldn’t know who we’d been paired with until we received the envelope in the mail. The headmaster droned on and on until finally, he got to me.
“Simon Peters, step up please.” Shaking slightly, I walked up the stairs and like
Abby, I took my diploma. Producing my envelope out, he prepared to read and I thought, “This is it, the moment you’ve been waiting for.” I tingled with anticipation.
“Simon Peters, you shall be a teacher and continue your education with Mr. Glenswold. What you will teach will be determined later.” He pointed to Mr. Glenswold, a bald, middle-aged man, with a small goatee.
“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Glenswold exclaimed, as he shook my hand excitedly.
“Come with me now, I’ll get you acquainted.”
He led me out of the auditorium through a back entrance all whilst talking excitedly.
“This,” he pointed out as we walked in front of a brick house, “is where I live, and
where you’ll be taking classes from now on. Lessons start next week. Report to me on Thursday at 9 o’clock sharp with a pencil and notebook. After I teach you the basics we’ll be determining which subject you’d be best at teaching and which age group you’re suited for. Now, tell me about yourself so I can figure out the most efficient way to instruct you.”
“Well...,” I replied, and we continued walking and talking until we were back at my house.
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