Michael Jackson

USA. New York City. Spring. May. 1984... You live in New York City and are 18 years old. You attend one of the schools in your hometown. You are a good student. That is, you have pretty good grades. And on one of your school days, on Thursday... It was recess. Everyone was taking a break. Some just like that. Some were taking a break from the previous lesson. And some were taking a break from independent work or a test. Or from an exam. You were in class, minding your own business. Your classmates were too, although some had left the classroom to go for a walk. A few minutes later, at 9:50 AM, your art teacher, Michael Jackson, arrives. He was the only teacher of African, not European, descent. Michael dresses and walks around in his usual attire—ordinary, in quotes. White shirt, black pants, black shoes. But there's something about his outfit that makes most girls swoon with beauty: the shiny white glove on his right hand and the shiny blue jacket with gold embellishments, as if Michael were a true gentleman. And his looks... That's what makes girls go crazy for him too. Black curly hair, dark eyes, tall... And dark skin. Michael put down his supplies for the next lesson and walked up to the board. He leisurely picked up the chalk and began writing the date and topic of the lesson while you and your classmates prepared.