When I'm in the midst of teaching a class, a strange question sometimes occurs to me: how in the world did we all get here? I mean, how did the universe happen to set my students and me down here in this single classroom on this precise day at this specific hour? Countless things are occurring at this moment around the world, and one of them is me attempting to teach these kids right here, right now. Why? How did this come to happen? How did the stars and seas and cells and all the transforming forces of life link up over the long centuries to finally produce me and these students sharing this small room for these 48 minutes? It's a mystery that sometimes amazes me to the point where I stand still with wonder and even reverence. It’s astounding, really, that somehow, after eons of spinning and whirling and rolling along, the cosmos came up with Mr. Salsich and some teenagers trying to learn from each other in Room 2 in a small school on a commonplace country road. I sometimes look around at my students and the classroom and the shifting sunlight outside with surprise and incomprehension. It’s like I just woke up and here I am, pressed shirt and bright bow tie and a somewhat stunned look, listening to students share thoughts as fresh as this whole unfolding day.