Growing up, a fair amount of my friends expressed an early, collective interest in becoming educators. This was an exciting development not only for the future children who would ultimately end up with passionate role models, but also for us, the youngsters who quoted Sister Act 2 constantly. At last, we would have a legitimately good reason to firmly advise, “If you want to be somebody, if you want to go somewhere, you better wake up and pay attention!” Of course, they were also looking forward to the opportunities to shape young minds and become positive beacons in their communities. If that involved a hip-hop rendition of “Joyful, Joyful” every now and again, then, so be it. (Fun fact: “Your teacher says take off your robes… I don’t know, just take off your robes” would actually come into play years later, when my closest friend became a drama teacher. I took immense joy in that. The kids didn’t get it at all.) I still—as recently as this week, even—will glibly declare that something “was cool for what it was, but it wasn’t all that.”