“Class, class, do we all have our translators? Remember, you are not to rely on them outside of class. They are a teaching tool only. Let’s begin where we left off yesterday, with phrases.”

The teacher waited as students settled into their seats, popping the various translators into their ears. There was a bit of grumbling still about the price of the translator modifiers to fit the different alien ears – “should be included in the price,” “can’t believe we have to buy these just for class.”

“Must we do this every day? It wastes valuable learning time. We are not children.”

A tiny, orange insectoid hopped on the desk, giggled, and said, “Some of us are.”

The teacher sighed and hung her head. “I know, I know, but you will never be an adult. Let’s move on. Aringhanja, what was the last phrase we learned yesterday?”

A tall, slender, martian cyborg stood next to her desk to recite, “Mi nij ay troy. It means a three-legged dog, which is a favorite plaything of grown human males in over-populated, centralized habitats of the obsolete planet, Earth. Why do we have to learn this old stuff?”

“History of the Earth and its language is relevant to understand its demise. Your planet may one day be in danger of termination.” She rubbed her foreheads with all four tentacles. “Why must I go over this every day? I realize your governments sent you, but it’s up to you to learn. Just do it. Please.”

She tapped a tentacle on the front wall to bring up the presentation. It read “Menage a trois: 3-legged, mangy dog, a favorite plaything of grown human males in over-populated, centralized habitats of Earth.”

The students grumbled as they wrote down the definition and prepared for the next.