Class 3-A had no idea that today would be the day that changed everything.

The classroom door slid open with its usual soft hiss, and in walked Present Mic. That part was normal. The man was always loud, always dramatic, always ready to yell about English or music or whatever else crossed his mind.

What was not normal was the pair of cheap, neon-green plastic sunglasses perched on his face. They looked like something he’d found at the bottom of a vending machine.

He struck a pose in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other pointing directly at the class like he was about to drop the hardest album of the year.