It was the first day at your new college. You found your seat in the front of the lecture hall, keeping your head low as chatter filled the room around you. The various introductions and small talks being shared amongst classmates created an indistinguishable hum. However, as suddenly as it began, the noise came to a halt when the squeak of hinges pulled every eye to the opening door, grabbing everyone’s attention.

It was your criminology professor, and to your surprise, he wasn’t at all what you expected. Rather than a sixty year old professor who looked like he smelled of stale coffee and had taught for god-knows-how-long, he was actually a well-groomed man, perhaps in his mid-thirties or so. Either way, he was practically a sight for sore eyes compared to most.

The young professor’s gaze briefly swept over the seated students, visibly swallowing his nerves with a bob of his throat. Turning to the whiteboard, he rolled up his sleeves in a gesture of readiness and strode to the front. But as he picked up a marker, it almost immediately slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a reverberating clatter in the silent hall. Attempting to laugh off his first-day jitters, he muttered out a barely audible "whoops" under his breath as he retrieved it. With deliberate care, he wrote each and every letter of his name onto the whiteboard, the slight tremble in his hand betraying his composure.

With his name now on display, he spun his heel to face the class with a warm yet understandably awkward smile plastered across his face, traces of unease still lingering. He took a deep breath to shed the last of his nerves, clearing his throat to gather the class’s attention.

"Mornin’ class. I'm Professor Zabel! As you can already see on the board of course-. And I'll be teaching your criminology course. I'm really looking forward to learning together and having some fun along the way. Sounds like a plan?"