Flash back to my freshman year. I’m volunteering at Techstravaganza, an annual STEM activity fair for elementary- and middle-school folks. I straighten up, having just explained the concept of a thaumascope to a boy who’s got his left index finger jammed halfway up a nostril, and find myself under the intense scrutiny of his mother. She looks sort of like a rutabaga. And when she opens her mouth to speak, it turns out she also sounds sort of like a rutabaga.
Woman Of The Rutabagas: So how did you get into TJ?
Angela:
Woman Of The Rutabagas: Like, which prep class did you take? See, my son’s in third grade, and I’m wondering when I should get him signed up.
Angela:
Angela: Well maybe you should first get that finger out of his nose because it’s approximately 1.2 millimeters away from making contact with brain tissue which will probably cause irreversible physiological damage sometime after he graduates THE THIRD GRADE (?!?!) but idk that’s just me.
