You grab a text book that was lying open on the table. It had a big printed title reading 'The War With Overseas' and a few black and white illustrations dotted around the page.
"This book has got to be 60 years old," you say as you stroke the yellowed pages and greying print. The pages are creased at the corners where some irresponsible readers 'dog-ear' their books.
You begin to read the page, top to bottom. "I can't teach something so sensitive," you say as you read the first paragraph with the heading of 'Pearl Harbor' in bold writing.
You scan the table, looking for a post it note telling you to turn to any other page apart from this one but you just see an assortment of pencils, pens, rulers and erasers as well as a stapler and a small stick of white chalk.
You pick up the white chalk, it's powder covering your fingers, and look around the classroom. Somehow you had managed to miss the giant, green board screwed on the wall.
"Seriously?" You say, "I haven't seen a chalkboard like this for years." You walk over to it and lift the chalk up. The small tap it makes as it makes contact with the board is satisfying and you get some nostalgia as you write your name on the board in neat writing.
You take your seat at the front of the class when the bell for first lesson starts. You let out a deep sigh before standing back up to open the door and get yourself ready to teach a load of college students history.