A Classroom
You feel incredibly disoriented. You are seated at a small desk in a
typical suburban classroom. A tall, middle aged woman is standing at
the blackboard, carefully inscribing a math problem. Your body is that
of Alice, a typical eleven year old girl. You stare in stunned
amazement at the floral dress you are wearing, and the pink tights
that stick out from the edge of the dress. Neon green sneakers are on
the end of his feet. You stare down at the desk. A sheet of paper is
on it, and you can see that Alice had been writing out the problem
from the board. Suddenly, the writing ended in a long wriggling pencil
mark. You look down and spot the pencil on the floor. You bend down
and pick it up. You are stunned at the tiny little hand which is at
the end of your pale skinned hand. You sigh and decide that this isn't
the time to make a fuss. You copy out the rest of the problem, a
simple bit of long division, and worked it out. You are surprised as
how hard it is to remember doing math by hand, but you manage it.
Three problems later, the bell rings and...
