I stood in front of the classroom, hoping to solidify my persona as a capable adult. So far, in the short time I had been working with this group, it seemed I had only demonstrated my ability to make a fool out of myself. How could a room full of middle-school-aged children make me question my life’s purpose? In the days leading up to this crucial, last evaluation day, these monsters had turned all my lessons upside down and incapacitated me with their berating comments on my outfit, my hair, my shoes, my manicure. Hell, even my innocuous name — Ms. Martin— led to a fit of giggles as students progressed from Ms. Martini to Ms. James Bond to Ms. Moneypenny. Who knew middle schoolers were so well versed in 007? As my college mentor stood watching, I could only pray that the gods were in my favor and the students were too, at least a little bit.