By the time the kids run into the rehearsal hall, big goofy grins on their faces, I’m working through the last of my coffee energy and ready to go home. Devin whistles to call them to attention—nearly scaring me out of my skin in the process—and then he has them all sit in a big circle so they can say their names and talk about things they like.

“I’ll start,” Devin says, his grin as big as the slobbering toddlers’. “I’m Devin! My pronouns are he/him, and I love Disney movies. Anyone seen Coco?”

And the whole room erupts as the kids start screaming about their favorite Disney movies or just screaming unintelligibly.

Devin whistles again, and they all stop like flies caught in a trap. I wonder if they come programmed like that or if they gave them something during orientation.

“Awesome!” Devin says. He turns to me and says, “Your turn!”

I blink back at him because this is the most humiliating thing I’ve done since I got cast as the Thanksgiving Turkey in a damn preschool play. I sigh and say, “I’m Noah. My pronouns are he/him, and I like anime?”

And I’m pretty sure none of these kids even know what an anime is, but they erupt again, like it’s the damn coolest thing they’ve ever heard, and actually, it does feel kind of nice. Like having your own little cheer squad who applauds you for doing nothing in particular.

Devin whistles again, and he motions to the little girl sitting next to me. She’s a dark girl, her hair tied up in little braids with these cute pink bows in them. She smiles wide and says, “I’m Bailey. I pronounce she, and Moana!”

And the kids lose it all over again.

I turn to Devin, who honestly looks like he’s fallen into the greatest state of euphoria, and I can’t help but laugh because wow, these kids don’t even know what we’re talking about but they sure are having fun. I wonder if I was ever like that. I doubt it.

It takes us a half hour to make it around the circle, and by the time we do, half the kids are playing with their shoes or crawling on the floor.

Devin rolls out an old TV and an even older DVD player and plops a little disc inside. He calls the kids to attention, and gets them to gather together in front of the screen before pressing play. Then he dims the lights and sits down next to me at the back of the room.

I’m not really sure what movie he chose, but there’s a bunch of Disney ads, so I guess that settles that.

I drop my voice low and say, “This is a zoo.”