Reminds me of attempting to explain to my 7th-grade science teacher why Sputnik 1 wouldn’t “run out of gas and fall down” in October 1957. He didn’t believe a word of it. We had just moved to the Phila. suburbs from a small town in East Texas and I was generally seen as mentally challenged; I had a funny accent, called adults “sir” and “mam,” couldn’t always understand those fast-talking Yankees, and wore blue jeans to school (first day only). We moved to another school district in the spring. One of the guys in that science class was in my freshman dorm at Brown, surprised to see me there.