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So, thank you, Mrs. Entertainment Content and Popular Media. You didn’t give me a diploma. You gave me a remote control, a Netflix password, and a lifetime of curiosity.

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Mrs. Entertainment didn't try to smooth out my rough edges. She highlighted them. She said, "See that kid in the back of the class drawing comics? He’s going to direct a Marvel movie one day. See that girl singing into her hairbrush? That’s a headliner." So, thank you, Mrs

Mrs. Entertainment didn't give me a textbook on emotional intelligence. She gave me a 90-minute runtime and a swelling orchestral score. She taught me that everyone is the hero of their own story, even the villains. And that, right there, is the foundation of not being a jerk. You gave me a remote control, a Netflix

Before I could drive, or vote, or even cook pasta without burning it, I learned to feel for people who didn't exist.

Mrs. Entertainment gave me a low-stakes sandbox to practice high-stakes skills. And she never once graded me on a curve.

For a long time, we were told that loving movies, music, and TV was a "guilty pleasure." That it was fluff. That it wasn't real learning.