Dream Job

“We’ve put a school on 436b,” said The Sup. “We need teachers.”
I raised my hand. 
“Newhart, you really think you can teach Shakespeare to a colony of Dwarlacks on the twilight side of a frozen planet?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then pack your bags and catch the six-o’clock. You’re an American hero, Newhart.”
“Thank you, sir. One question, sir.”
“Yes?”
“The final test, sir. What is the protocol?”
“No test.”
“No test? How shall I assess progress?”
“How about you don’t let the little cretins eat you the first day?”
I saluted, “Sounds like a dream job, sir.” I said.