The professor grasped the edges of his lectern in time-honored fashion. His students sat before him, all in strict rows, all dressed in the school colors (though one daring girl sported a non-regulation bow in her hair). The professor took a deep breath.
"Question authority," he said, and waited.
And waited. Not one student raised a hand.
His class gazed at him attentively, all pens poised at the correct angle, his first two words, in black or dark blue ink only, written neatly at the top of each notebook's page.
And waited. Eventually he sobbed, once, into the microphone. Sometime later, the monitors came to the front of the classroom and led him away.
The students waited in their chairs for the monitors to come back and tell them they could leave.
Original content on this page ©1996 Alan P. Scott. All rights reserved.