Last night’s assignment found me teaching a class about Rush – the band, not the Limbaugh. I had in my head how I was going to teach it, but was unsure of my qualifications since all I have are a couple of hits compilations.
Turns out it didn’t matter. The class was held in the basement of my church (there isn’t one in real life). Most of the students were members of my congregation. And the guy who was the best man in my wedding showed up.
The basement was cluttered, crowded and dark. I suggested moving because I thought some folks in the congregation might get mad if I played a Rush song inside a church building (and I dreaded having to explain the pentagram on the cover of 2112 – and isn’t there a naked guy on one of their other covers? I don’t know. Why was I teaching this class anyway?).
Turns out it didn’t matter. My students got mad because I was talking about moving the class. So I started the lecture, explaining why I wasn’t qualified to teach the class because I only had a couple of compilation albums…