As line leader, I was the first one to pass into Mr. Pony's classroom. However, since the door to that room could remain open using the hoof kickstand attached to the door, I didn't need to hold it open. As I glanced to my right at the quiet coloring table, Owen grinned and waved at me. Soon, we were all back inside the classroom.

"Okay, folkerinoes," began Mr. Pony from a position where everyone could hear.

"That's a new one," commented Skylar to the rest of the class.

"It is now -" Mr. Pony cleared their throat so they could better change to their biting voice - "naptime. Everyone who wishes to take a nap, please select one of the nap mats to sleep on. Anyone else can participate in quiet coloring. You lot know the drill by now."

I was tempted to join Owen at the quiet coloring table along with the other regulars, Rachel and Jacques, but for whatever reason I was just exhausted from the hard work on the tunnel, and decided to settle down for a long winter's nap. I wandered around a bit until I found one that was a comfortable distance from everyone else, but still within earshot of Mr. Pony's soothing music. I lay down on the nap mat, readjusting my position a few times until I became comfortable. The lights turned off and the soothing music began playing. It was "A Whole New World" from Disney's Aladdin. Ironically enough, I found myself closing my eyes right at the part where they said 'Don't you dare close your eyes', and drifting into a precious slumber.

I awoke, lifting my head off the table I was sitting at like the day dreamer where there was a small puddle of drool. The lights were still dim, and in a confused daze, I looked around to see all of my classmates also sitting up at their assigned seats around the room, except their faces were all blurred out like Dali. Mr. Pony was standing at the front of the room, next to the easel pad, their hands to their mouth mischievously.

"Well well well, buckaroos," uttered Mr. Pony through their hands. "It's been a hot minute since I've done one of these. Time for another TED talk!"

Mr. Pony began pacing back and forth, holding one of the easel pad markers like a microphone in one hand and placing the other behind their back like a male gamer. "You know, ever since the last TED Talk, there's been some changes around here. I've always thought it's interesting to think of changes in small increments to the current reality over short periods of time. It's also quite fascinating when these small changes are gamified." Mr. Pony turned to the side slightly, raising one of their arms with an irate expression on their face. "That's a hot topic in education right now, by the way. The art of Gamification, or turning something into the game." They then put their hands on their stomach. I knew that pose was coming eventually. "And, since we're in a school environment, it only seemed appropriate to present these changes as game powerups!" They returned to a normal and cleared their throat.

"Mr. Pony's jump height has been improved by 0.05 meters. The hit boxes that appear on Mr. Pony after they perform their signature attack, 'Pony Dash' have been removed, and they now instead get I-frames during the cooldown instead. Ms. Uni's max HP has also been reduced from 80 to 70. Isn't that fantastic?" There was nothing but shocked silence following this statement. Since this was nothing but a weird, bizarre dream, I could not respond, and none of my classmates had a mouth with which to respond either. Mr. Pony looked down a bit embarrassedly. "Tough crowd." they remarked, commenting on the lack of feedback to their powerups. However, they eventually perked up, put both hands on their stomach, leaned back slightly, and blushed intentionally. "That's okay though. Even though these powerups might not directly affect you, you'll probably be feelin' the effects of them eventually. And if not, well then that's just a sign that you need more powerups! Thank you for coming to my TED Talk!" Mr. Pony waved their arms for a little bit as I drifted back off into slumber.

My eyes snapped open once again as the lights suddenly turned bright and the iPhone alarm noise began playing. Mr. Pony, accompanied by another strange being, was standing near the easel pad.

"Rise and shine, sleepyheads!" cooed Mr. Pony. "Naptime is now over! Please stow your nap mats in the closet so we can proceed to our next activity, where I'll introduce our special guest!"
I subtly glanced at my nap mat. Thankfully, unlike the table in my dream, there was no puddle of drool there. I quickly rolled the mat up and held it under my arm, getting in line behind Jeremy to put the mat away in the closet. After that had been completed, I returned to my seat, intrigued by the new special guest.

"Hey!" said Mr. Pony suddenly, putting both of their hands above their head and with an irate expression on their face. "Who was the last person to put their nap mat away?"

William started sweating and looked taken aback. "N-not me!" he said.

"BAAAAH!" said Jacques from one table over.

"Okay fine," admitted William, looking down defeatedly. "It was me. I'm not in trouble, am I?"

"Don't worry, you're fine," said Mr. Pony. "But whoever is the last to put their nap mat away needs to close the door to the closet next time."

"R-right," replied William, nodding in agreement. "I, uh, just forgot is all."

"Anyways," continued Mr. Pony, motioning to the being next to them, who had their arms crossed and at least one eye closed, as the other was covered by a lopsided rain hat. In one of their hands, this being carried a lasso. "It's time to introduce my special guest! Class, this is Mr. Sibba. He's a language arts teacher with a very special announcement for you."

Mr. Sibba's eye opened intensely. "Greetings, Class of 374," they said, without moving their arms. "I am Mr. Sibba. As my comrade Pon- er, Mr. Pony has mentioned, I have an important announcement to make." They cleared their throat so deftly, it was almost as if you could hear the web of blockage being removed. "Your class… has been invited to participate in the Three-Hundred-and-Sixty-Second Annual Paige Prep spelling bee."

Julia raised her hand. "A spelling bee? Like the insect?"

Mr. Sibba laughed heartily. "No, that is merely a figure of speech. It is more of a spelling competition." Between their deep, booming voice, and unusual speech patterns, Mr. Sibba reminded me a bit of Graham Turver. "Each class up until the fifth grade will provide up to three contestants, who will be entered into an elimination round spelling bee in a few days time. How you select these contestants and how you prepare for the spelling bee is up to you. The winner of the spelling bee will have their name recorded in the hall of fame, along with the previous three-hundred-and-sixty-one winners." I felt a strange sensation in my head. It was like the room began to spin, and I struggled to keep my focus.

"Wow, so cool!" said Kathleen. "I'm stoked to compete! Where do we sign up?"

"Weren't you listening to what Mr. Sibba said?" retorted Randy. "We can only send up to three people. So it only makes sense to send the three best spellers in the class."

Kathleen pouted sarcastically. "Well, how are supposed to know that before the spelling bee actually happens, genius?"

Julia adjusted her single-lens glasses with one hand and extended the other, palm up, as if to accept an ancient coin. "The most effective way to determine who would perform best in a real spelling bee would be to see who performs best in a practice spelling bee, here in class."

"Yeah," I agreed, trying to keep my focus and form a coherent response. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Then in that case," said Randy, his red and black flanneled arms crossed in front of him, "We're going to need to learn the ru-ules. Can you go into more detail about how the spelling bee works, Mr. Sibba?"

Mr. Sibba grinned menacingly, crossed his arms again, and closed the one eye that we could see.

"Certainly, Randall," they replied. Randy's eyes widened a bit in surprise at hearing his full name used. "For each round in the spelling bee, contestants will be split into groups, and each member of each group will be asked to spell one word by a judge. If they misspell the word, then they are eliminated. This continues until only one person in that group remains, and those winners proceed to the next round. The last person standing overall is the winner."

"That doesn't seem too difficult to set up here in class," commented Skylar. "Why don't we give it a shot?"

"Yeah," agreed Kiki. "It'll be like one of those 'put your mouth where your money is' type things."

"Uh, Kiki," said Kathleen, putting her finger to her mouth skeptically. "I think you said that backwards."

"So it's decided then?" asked Mr. Pony, tilting their head to one side slightly and putting one of their hands to their cheek, the one on their face. "Our class is going to participate in the spelling bee?"

"Correct," said Randy, sounding like he was about to cough when pronouncing the 'rr' noise.

"Then," roared Mr. Sibba, opening their eye intensely. "Are there any further questions?"

Eli raised a hand shakily. "H-how is the j-udge going to ch-choose the words?"

"Good question!" answered Mr. Sibba. He uncrossed his arms, closed his eyes, lifted up his rain hat with one hand, and removed a stack of flash cards from underneath it before presenting it to us. The word on the front read 'pail'. "The judge will have a stack of flash cards with the words on it that only they can see. They will call off the words from there."

Julia raised her hand again. "The card you have there says 'pail'. Then, what happens in the case of homophones? How will I know if I have to spell that pail, or the p-a-l-e pale?"

"Oh yeah," agreed Skylar, "it's like the three theres."

Mr. Sibba chuckled darkly, like Graham Turver. "Another good question. In that case, just ask the judge to define the word or use it in a sentence. They will gladly comply."

"Good, thank you," responded Julia. What followed that was a few seconds of silence before Mr. Sibba asked again, "Any other questions? Or shall I take my leave?" I looked back and forth to the no-longer-blurred out faces of my classmates, but no one seemed to want to speak up, until -

"I have a question," said Owen suddenly, without raising his hand. "Mr. Sibba, where is the spelling bee gonna be?"

"It will take place in the gymnasium on the opposite side of campus," answered Mr. Sibba.

"Yeah, that's a little bit past the big toy," added Mr. Pony, to give us a frame of reference.

"Really? Okay, thanks!" he said, grinning and putting his hands behind his head. "That's all for now, you're dismissed." The room descended back into silence.

"I think you might be good to go, buddy," commented Mr. Pony. "These kiddoes seem like they've got it down pat, I think."

"Heh heh heh," said Mr. Sibba, closing their eyes again. "Then, like a knight into the darkness, I vanish. Farewell!" Using the hand that wasn't holding the lasso, Mr. Sibba reached behind themselves and swirled the end of their jacket around them like a cape, pretending to disappear like Meta Knight. However, what really happened is that they held the end of their jacket in front of them while quickly scuttling out of the classroom like a crab. I was a bit dumbfounded by their strange behavior, but that seemed par the course for teachers at this institution, anyways.

"Don't mind them," reassured Mr. Pony to everyone that watch Mr. Sibba's strange departure. "They're always like that. They only put on that vampire-Batman-like persona to seem cool to the kids, but underneath they're a real sweetheart."

I felt something strange within my body as Mr. Pony finished saying that sentence. That itch crawled up back into my brain. I had a feeling I was forgetting something important, but I didn't know what. Was this what some people meant when they said I was pretending to have amnesia? That gave me an idea. While Mr. Pony continued talking about Mr. Sibba and the spelling bee, I whispered to the other beings at my table.

"Psst. Hey, guys," I whispered, suddenly self-conscious as I said that, because everyone else sitting at the table was a girl.

"'sup, Jor-bah," whispered Kiki back. God dangit. First shep, and now Kiki. Was everyone else going to start using Owen's dumb nickname?

"Jenny, Kathleen, you too," I whispered, until I had the entire table's attention. "I have something important to ask you guys.

"Are you asking me on a date?" asked Kathleen, looking startled. "But we're only in kindergarten! I don't want your cooties!"

"No! It's not that," I insisted, now ten times more self-conscious than I was before. "I guess Jenny's already answered this, but do either you or Kiki remember me having amnesia before today?"

"Yeah," responded Kathleen. "When you were writing your pen-pal letter to Chuck two days ago, you were acting strange. We had to help you remember what to do."

"That's so weird," I commented, "because that's not how I remember -"

A plastic lobster smacked the table between myself and Kiki, causing all four of us to jump. I looked up to see Mr. Pony brandishing the lobster by its tail and staring down over the table. "That's a nice conversation you're having over here, care to share with the rest of the class?"

"Whoa, that's a nice lobster-vation," commented Kiki.

"N-no, thanks," I declined nervously. "Sorry. We'll pay attention now."

"Good, I appreciate it!" said Mr. Pony overenthusiastically before heading back up to the easel pad. "Now, as I was saying before, we've decided to have a practice spelling bee to determine who to choose for the real one?"

"Yes," confirmed Randy for the class.

"Ideally," tacked on Julia, "we would have three, and the winners of each one would be picked as contestants."

"What if somebody wins more than once?" asked Jeremy.

"Well," responded Julia, "Mr. Sibba said 'up to' three contestants, so that means we can send two or one, if there are not three winners."

"That's not fair to everyone else," inputted Kathleen. "If we can choose three people, we should choose three people. If someone wins twice, then instead of only choosing the winners we should add someone else who wants to go."

"That's true," agreed Skylar. "Even if someone's not as good at spelling, the more people we enter, the more chances we have to win."

"A fair point," countered Julia, "but in that case, why not just choose one of the second places as the third contestant?"

I had an idea. "How about we compromise?" I offered. "If someone wins once, they get chosen for the spelling bee, but they sit out of any practice runs after that. That solves the issue of someone winning twice."

"Indeed," inputted Rachel. "And with the previous winner removed, it leaves room for the next-best spellers to rise to the top naturally." I was a bit shocked that she agreed with me. Was my idea really that good?

"Good, I am fine with that idea," agreed Julia.

"I still think that if you want to be in the main spelling bee, you should get to participate," doubted Kathleen.

"Well then, think of it this way," replied Rachel, gesturing with her hands to form a cube in the air in front of her. "If someone has no desire to be in the main spelling bee, then they have no need to win the practice rounds and therefore no reason to perform well in them. That means that anyone who earns their position in the main spelling bee must have wanted to participate, otherwise they would not have tried to win the practice round."

Kathleen crossed her arms and looked to the side thoughtfully for a few seconds while processing Rachel's answer. Then she sighed and looked downward slightly defeatedly. "You're right… I guess that makes sense." However, she bounced back quickly, in typical Kathleen fashion. "But that just means that if I want to be in the spelling bee, I have to win!"

"Right," began Randy, assuming control of the conversation, "in that case, we should do one of the practice rounds now, while the ru-ules are still fresh in our memories."

"Sorry, no can do," inputted Mr. Pony. They gestured to the clock on the wall, as not everyone was in a position to see the face of the WATCH Tower clock from their seats. "Not only are we almost out of time for the day, I also don't have the flash cards we would need for the practice round." There was a collective sigh among the class. For some, it was a sigh of relief, and for others, a sigh of disappointment. "I'll have to go and make photocopies of Mr. Sibba's stack, but I promise we can get this shindig started first thing after centers tomorrow! But for now, it's time to pack up and get ready to go home."

Understanding, but a bit disappointed, I started getting what little belongings I had together in preparation to exit the kindergarten building. That wasn't much, however, as all I needed to do was make sure all of my items were safely within the pockets of my professional black cardigan before I made sure I was in the proper position to be the line leader. After a short period of time where the other children gathered up all their belongings and filed into line behind me. Mr. Pony walked up to the door and motioned for me to exit, so I did so, with the rest of the class following me. After stepping through the vestibulum and out into the playground, I watched as most of the crowd dispersed from behind me, walking off to their parent or guardian's respective vehicle, but unfortunately, that wasn't for me. Today, I had to go to Extended Day. I waited around until only two other people remained, Jacques and Kathleen.

"Do you two have to go to Extended Day as well?" I asked.

"Yeah," answered Kathleen. "But I dunno where it is today."

"Usually, it is in Mr. Seal's art room," stated Jacques. "But sometimes, it is in one of the music rooms in the WATCH Tower building or the library across from the art room. We should ask Mr. Pony to be sure." I looked behind them. Mr. Pony was at the door to the building, just locking it up before heading out. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, I approached the teacher.

"Ahem," I began, nervously clearing my throat. "'Scuse me, Mr… Pony?"

Mr. Pony turned around. Upon seeing me behind them, they began leaning backward, blushing unintentionally, and putting their hands up to their mouth. "Oh. Oh my," they stuttered, clearly more than a little shocked. "Hello. Uh, yes, Jordan. What is it? What can I help you with?"

I frowned a little bit. Even for Mr. Pony, this behavior was unusual. "Me and Jacques and Kathleen were just -"

"Actually, it's 'Jacques, Kathleen, and I,'" countered Mr. Pony, "but go on."

I frowned a little bit more. "We were just wondering where Extended Day is today."

"Art Room, Mr. Seal. Just like last time, I told you," responded Mr. Pony gruffly.

I was starting to get heated. "Last time? I've never been to extended day before!" I said. "And Jacques says sometimes it's in other places."

Mr. Pony blinked. "You're right. That's right. I was mistaken. I'm sorry Jordan, it's been a long day, and my brain is more scatterbrained than usual. But Extended Day is in Mr. Seal's room today. Jacques should know where it is."

I cooled down a little. "It's all good, Mr. Pony," I said. "Everybody has those days sometimes. Thanks for telling me, though." I turned around to head off with my friends, waving goodbye. "See you tomorrow!"

Once I was out of earshot, Mr. Pony exhaled in relief. "Whew. That was a close one." They then bent down to pick up the key they had dropped in shock earlier, and stood back up to gaze at the three students looking at a piece of paper. "He's such a polite kid," Mr. Pony said to themself. "No wonder she took a liking to him."