A few months after my first excursion, I enrolled in two summer High School makeup classes being held at the University of Guam. Yes, I had dorked my homework for the sake of the experiment. I had to make up an English class and a Civics class.

The English one was easy; Composition. I always could tell a story. The Civics class did not sound like fun. It was American Government.

The college was about twelve miles from our home. I drove down the road that day dreading the work, but I had learned that time was a commodity I could invest if the subject attracted me.

I parked in student parking. It felt cool to be an adult, sort-off. I was going to a university (to take High School classes.) I walked up to the temporary building and opened the door. There were four other guys already at desks. No girls. The dudes (all white guys) were scattered around the room, not sitting in a group.

I sat down in the back. I knew one of them. The others were from a different high school. We talked for a minute, introducing ourselves. Just as we'd gotten comfortable, the door burst open and this Guamanian teacher strolled into the room. He held the American Government text book high over his head.

"My name is Mr. Camacho! This class is called American Government!" He proclaimed, as he spun around to show us all the cover of the book. He then walked over to his desk and abruptly slam-dunked the book into the trash can.

"However!" He had our attention. "However," he repeated, "we are not going to study this book in this class because you people are not ready to participate in a republic!"

He then turned to the blackboard and began writing.

"These are your reading assignments!"

"Social Contract by Jean-Jacques Rousseau."
"The Interpretation of Dreams by Sigmund Freud."
"The Holy Bible."

"Today, you will read the Book of Genesis!"

He then turned, walked back through the door and closed it behind him.