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My Eridian students jostle around the lab table, a sea of colorful rocks bobbling over each other. I’m at the front as the head and only teacher of what Mark insists on calling “Dr. Grace’s School in Space”. Mark also insisted on recording the ceremony, which means I’m on camera now. I clear my throat. “When I say your name, come forward. Rocky has the diplomas.”
The diplomas are Mark’s last-minute addition. “You can’t have a college graduation without diplomas,” he’d said. “You can’t have one without caps or gowns either, though I can budge on gowns. Caps, not so much, and diplomas no way.” He used the 3D printer to make Erid-safe diplomas with raised lettering, and convinced the Eridian kids to design caps for themselves.
Eventually the final diploma changes claws and Mark stops the recording. That’s all for the official record. Now for one more thing. I’ve spent a long trip with these wonderful kids, and a teacher can’t help but love a good student. I would do anything to help them succeed. The feeling is oddly similar to how Stratt talked about the Project.
I clear my throat again (at this age, my voice needs it). “A last note. I know I’m not the best teacher at all of the subjects, or maybe any of the non-science ones—”
“Hey, don’t put yourself down.” Mark wags a finger. “From the lessons I watched, you’re better than 99% of professors, easy. You love teaching. It shows.”
“Grace is very good at teaching!” Rocky claps, a gesture the Eridians copied from me.
The journey from Erid took over four years, and since the kids want to do advanced study on Earth, I organized them bachelor's degree equivalents. Lesson planning isn’t rocket science. There’s plenty of reference material in the ship computer. Admittedly the curriculum was tilted towards biology, and STEM in general, even for students focused on other topics. Because biology is cool! Plus there were literature courses. If reading classic sci-fi counts as literature. And watching Star Trek. Okay, maybe it was more Media Studies.
“Moving on.” Good thing the camera isn't around to capture my flushed cheeks. “We’re arriving out of the graduate school application cycle, and it might be hard to get three letters of recommendation since I don’t know anyone in academia nowadays—”
Mark guffaws. “Buddy, a rec from you will get anyone into anywhere they apply. Ain’t no rule that can’t be bent. Especially for aliens. Plus, if you want three, have them use you, me, and Rocky.”
“What, Rocky?”
“Yes!” chimes Rocky. “I will write good letters. All your students are good.”
Their interspecies conspiracy for sure planned that in advance. I press on. “Regardless, I don’t know how higher education is right now. The process might’ve changed in the past decades.”
“Grad school’s the same as in your day, old man.” Mark smirks. “A lot of reading, a lot of trying things that don't work, and eventually you come out the other end with a piece of paper that says you know what you’re doing.”
“That means you know what you are doing, then.” Rocky’s notes drip with sass.
Mark glances at the translation and slaps his knee. “No way, José. You kidding me? Did you see the shit I got up to on Mars?”
That’s it, time for the Teacher Voice. “Rocky, Mark, could you stop interrupting, please?”
Rocky curls inwards, polite enough to act chastised. Mark puts on a pout.
“As I was saying. We arrive at Earth soon. Whatever happens, I am proud of you,” (I push down a lump in my throat), “and you’ll all do amazing.”
The kids chorus thank-yous and meander off, holding their diplomas like trophies. Rocky hurries after them. Faint sounds of happy Eridians float back.
I point my cane at Mark. “Are you planning to share that video?”
“Duh, of course I’m sharing it. Do you have any idea how many people will watch Ryland Grace holding a graduation ceremony for Eridians?”
The last student disappears from view. They have a lot ahead of them. Grad school is hard enough already, let alone on an unfamiliar planet. This is an interstellar adventure for my kids. In my experience, those tend to run into problems. I’ll have to be around to help them, support them, watch out for them. To watch out for them while I try to find a home on Earth.