T.J. Davenport
Written by Mystery Machine
* *
'I touch the future; I teach.'
I remember those words, and I remember why I'm here. I have always wanted to make a difference in the universe, and leave it better off than when I arrived. I have never had the intention of perfecting it, mind you; there is always room for improvement. I suppose I have always wanted to teach. I have most certainly always wanted to learn. It only made sense to pass my knowledge onto others. It seemed as though that was what I was meant to do with my life. I became a teacher, like my father, and then received a promotion to the position of Assistant Principal, in the most prestigious school in the galaxy no less.
Yes, I was born to improve the future. I think of all I have taught and all I can teach young people to help their minds grow and expand their horizons.
And then I look at the Space Cases.
They're space cases. They're misfits. And I'm stuck on this Godforsaken ship with the lot of them for seven years, four months, and twenty-two days of my life.
Shoot me now, and get it over with. I recall this statement slipping from my mouth once, toward the beginning of our journey.
Although I suppose it could be worse. These kids are not delinquents; they are merely misguided. We all have our quirks and pet peeves. It just seems that this crew has more quirks than what is considered normal.
On this ship we have an optimist, a pessimist, a know-it-all leader, a hesitant follower, and a dreamer with an invisible (and rather cocky) friend.
And then there's me. I like to think of myself as the intelligent, orderly one of the bunch. Without me this crew would certainly go to hell in a hand basket...especially with the commander's irrational love for risk taking.
And to think, he's supposed to be the one guiding us home.
When the commander was stuck in the healing chamber, I couldn't bear the thought of being solely responsible for getting these kids home safely. How Seth gets the students to follow orders is beyond me. I admire the commander very much for his ability to guide the students. Of course I'd never actually admit that to anyone.
I look up from my CompuPad at the students in my classroom. They are supposed to be studying.
Instead, Bova is sleeping, Rosie is drawing, Catalina and Harlan are arguing about Command Post duties, and Radu is attempting to mediate the fight.
What is a teacher to do?
I've tried being forceful, being strict...
'How about being nice?'
I still remember the day Radu suggested that. It was a brash move on his part. He's usually the peacemaker of the group, and instead he tried to challenge my authority. I must admit I was quite taken aback.
I wouldn't mind being nice, if they gave me reason to be.
Yet the pranks have only continued. So far they've remixed the atmosphere of my quarters with helium, glued me to my chair, put itching powder in my uniform, glued my mouth shut, and tricked me into thinking the commander had been ripped to shreds. And these are only some of their attempts at being creative. I must wonder what else they've got up their sleeves. I wish they'd use their resourceful thinking for good once in a while.
And they wonder why I am always so skeptical and cautious. We have been lucky so far and managed to get us through some difficult situations. But they still refuse to listen to my advice or pay attention in class. If I can't trust them to be mature and responsible in the classroom, how am I supposed to trust them with my life?
I have reason to believe the ship likes to play tricks as well. I'm beginning to think she laughs with the students. The jumptubes spit me out at the incorrect destination, the Food Wheel never gives me the proper food, Thelma always seems to malfunction at the worst possible time...the list goes on. But the biggest joke of all is how the commander and I are unable to control the ship.
How am I supposed to trust this crew with my life?
'I touch the future; I teach.'
Ironic that the person for whom the ship is named is the same person I quote so often. Christa is the source of my motivation and my aggravation.
"Attention, Team. This is Commander Goddard," Seth's voice echoes throughout the ship. "Report to the Command Post immediately. I repeat, report to the Command Post immediately. All hands on deck."
"To the ComPost!" Harlan announces, using his favorite name for the room. I swear, the commander even slips and uses Harlan's childish abbreviation once in a while.
"Honestly, what now?" I wonder, letting out a frustrated sigh.
The students leap from their seats and rush to the jumptubes. I follow suit, shouting after them about an exceptional education being essential to our survival, but no one seems to pay me any mind.
Written by Mystery Machine
* *
'I touch the future; I teach.'
I remember those words, and I remember why I'm here. I have always wanted to make a difference in the universe, and leave it better off than when I arrived. I have never had the intention of perfecting it, mind you; there is always room for improvement. I suppose I have always wanted to teach. I have most certainly always wanted to learn. It only made sense to pass my knowledge onto others. It seemed as though that was what I was meant to do with my life. I became a teacher, like my father, and then received a promotion to the position of Assistant Principal, in the most prestigious school in the galaxy no less.
Yes, I was born to improve the future. I think of all I have taught and all I can teach young people to help their minds grow and expand their horizons.
And then I look at the Space Cases.
They're space cases. They're misfits. And I'm stuck on this Godforsaken ship with the lot of them for seven years, four months, and twenty-two days of my life.
Shoot me now, and get it over with. I recall this statement slipping from my mouth once, toward the beginning of our journey.
Although I suppose it could be worse. These kids are not delinquents; they are merely misguided. We all have our quirks and pet peeves. It just seems that this crew has more quirks than what is considered normal.
On this ship we have an optimist, a pessimist, a know-it-all leader, a hesitant follower, and a dreamer with an invisible (and rather cocky) friend.
And then there's me. I like to think of myself as the intelligent, orderly one of the bunch. Without me this crew would certainly go to hell in a hand basket...especially with the commander's irrational love for risk taking.
And to think, he's supposed to be the one guiding us home.
When the commander was stuck in the healing chamber, I couldn't bear the thought of being solely responsible for getting these kids home safely. How Seth gets the students to follow orders is beyond me. I admire the commander very much for his ability to guide the students. Of course I'd never actually admit that to anyone.
I look up from my CompuPad at the students in my classroom. They are supposed to be studying.
Instead, Bova is sleeping, Rosie is drawing, Catalina and Harlan are arguing about Command Post duties, and Radu is attempting to mediate the fight.
What is a teacher to do?
I've tried being forceful, being strict...
'How about being nice?'
I still remember the day Radu suggested that. It was a brash move on his part. He's usually the peacemaker of the group, and instead he tried to challenge my authority. I must admit I was quite taken aback.
I wouldn't mind being nice, if they gave me reason to be.
Yet the pranks have only continued. So far they've remixed the atmosphere of my quarters with helium, glued me to my chair, put itching powder in my uniform, glued my mouth shut, and tricked me into thinking the commander had been ripped to shreds. And these are only some of their attempts at being creative. I must wonder what else they've got up their sleeves. I wish they'd use their resourceful thinking for good once in a while.
And they wonder why I am always so skeptical and cautious. We have been lucky so far and managed to get us through some difficult situations. But they still refuse to listen to my advice or pay attention in class. If I can't trust them to be mature and responsible in the classroom, how am I supposed to trust them with my life?
I have reason to believe the ship likes to play tricks as well. I'm beginning to think she laughs with the students. The jumptubes spit me out at the incorrect destination, the Food Wheel never gives me the proper food, Thelma always seems to malfunction at the worst possible time...the list goes on. But the biggest joke of all is how the commander and I are unable to control the ship.
How am I supposed to trust this crew with my life?
'I touch the future; I teach.'
Ironic that the person for whom the ship is named is the same person I quote so often. Christa is the source of my motivation and my aggravation.
"Attention, Team. This is Commander Goddard," Seth's voice echoes throughout the ship. "Report to the Command Post immediately. I repeat, report to the Command Post immediately. All hands on deck."
"To the ComPost!" Harlan announces, using his favorite name for the room. I swear, the commander even slips and uses Harlan's childish abbreviation once in a while.
"Honestly, what now?" I wonder, letting out a frustrated sigh.
The students leap from their seats and rush to the jumptubes. I follow suit, shouting after them about an exceptional education being essential to our survival, but no one seems to pay me any mind.