My freshman year of high school, I took a class that was supposed to prepare students for adulthood by teaching us how to do grownup things, like balance a checkbook and eat vegetables.
In theory, I guess it was a good idea, considering most of the kids at my school thought Cheetos constituted a nutritious breakfast. In practice? It was an easy A class, where the teacher, when she wasn’t showing us a video from the 1970s, alternated between dozing at her desk and giving sketchy advice. A typical nugget of wisdom? “If you eat an apple with an entire bucket of fried chicken, it will cancel out all of the fat.”