Parkland College!

What had Doctor Basil T. Cunningsworth, esteemed professor, done to deserve this? Here he was, the darling of higher education in Great Britain, the point of reference for all matters academical, and he was reduced to educating a motley band of baseball obsessed reprobates on the finer points of applying pencil to paper! Pah! Community college! One would receive better education at an Australian car wash!

"Now see, if you'll observe the application of light to the clear... I SAID GOOD DAY!" Professor Cunningsworth suddenly bellowed towards the braying, bothersome brutes brawling boisterously beyond his classroom door! Bollocks! Honestly the standards of students had dropped sharply ever since the local authorities had instructed him to stay inside! How dare they! Professor Cunningsworth was a man of SCIENCE! A man of ADVENTURE! In fact the only reason he hadn't gone outside to give the constables what-for was his students dogpiling him! On one hand, he had been furious! Furious! One never stands between a gentleman and a goal! On the other, it gave him the first inkling of hope and faith for the minds of Americans. Wanting him to teach them further! Why of course he would do so! Of course he was proven wrong almost immediately, but by then his door had been locked. LOCKED.

With that ghastly matter now attended to, he turned back to his shambles of a classroom, resembling more of a small fort than an esteemed establishment of effective education. "Now now, come out from under your desks, students!" he instructed most soothingly as only an elderly gentleman could. "Refraction, contrary to popular opinion, is not terrifying!"

There was a quiet whimper from under one of the desks.

"Nonsense, Stibbons," said Professor Cunningsworth to the whimper, who's name was in fact Harold. Good, British name, that Harold. Unfortunately he carried the potential of all other Americans. That is, none. "It is merely the application of light to a clear surface in a manner that causes the light to bend! How remarkable! The light, in fact, bends more than the principal of Oxford, whom I daresay was something of a yardstick in his rigidity! I remember one occasion wherein I asked him for additional funding to the science lab as we were in dire, DIRE need of additional resources and he told me, if I were so desperate, I would pay for it myself! What pish posh! How dare he! I decided that in order to get my funding I would regale to him the tale of my time in the Swiss Alps, when I was skiing as any gentleman would and hit a rock..."

The banging on the door continued.