Today I taught my first class. Of all the physical activities classes that I would actually be qualified to teach, I am teaching a class in basketball. Thirty undergraduates are relying on me to teach them the basics and intricacies of basketball twice a week, for the next ~16 weeks.
Basketball is the game on ice they play with sticks, right?
Kidding! I do know more about basketball than that. There is no ice, there is a ball, and it's white and made up of stitched panels.
Wait, there aren't stitched panels? That's soccer you say? I do vaguely recall that from when I played in college 10+ years ago. If that's the case, then I'm not remembering back far enough.
Oh, there it is. The last memory I have of playing competitive basketball. In it I'm not much shorter than I am now, but I am much younger than I am now. That would be because this memory is from 1995.
Clearly I am ready to knock this curriculum out of the park.
Huh? That metaphor alludes to baseball you say?
Ok, then I'm fully prepared to knock this curriculum down.
Hmmm, I think that's boxing...
Someone corrected "Professor Beebe" to Professor BeeBall.
And thus, my rapper name was chosen.