Often, we as a staff discuss the potential issues that can result from our overprotection. Most of us live sheltered lives, most of us rarely venture outside the Hockabubble. And it’s true, there could be potential consequences of not fully understanding the “real world” and how it works.

But, isn’t there an upside to preserving our naivety in a world that turns children into adults too quickly? Our perspectives editor Molly Montgomery summarized the staff’s belief by relating an experience we thought represented the Hockabubble best:

About a month ago, I left my laptop at school. I sat at home debating if it was even worth the 30 minute round trip to get it. But after my parents told me something about “doing my homework” and that “getting into college” is actually important (who knew?), I decided to go.

To my dismay, however, my laptop wasn’t in my locker, where I thought I’d left it, and wasn’t anywhere that I remembered using it that day. Yikes.

I frantically texted anyone who I’d had contact with in the past 12 hours and asked if they’d seen it or accidentally grabbed it instead of their own. But still nothing, I started to panic.

I love my Toshiba, (see last month’s student standoff if you can’t imagine why. I’m the girl giving her the camera a weird head nod; it’s an easy find.) but I wasn’t even remotely psyched about the idea of replacing it.

I called my mom after signing out of Hoak and told her of my woes. She jumped to the worst conclusion, just like the pessimistic side of me had: my laptop had most likely been stolen, dum-dum-dummm.

But a part of me, I guess by elimination my optimistic side, knew that this wasn’t the case. I just couldn’t picture any student or any faculty member stealing my laptop. They just wouldn’t.

I told my family this when I returned home empty handed and I saw their eyes rolling at my apparent naivety. My dad told me to think outside the Hockabubble.

But I like it in here.

He reminded me that, in a year and a half, I would be forced to leave this very thick, very comfortable bubble that I had become accustomed to, one where nothing that bad ever happened.

He added that it might be a good time to go ahead and burst it, so that I didn’t suffer from some form of overly-trusting-girl-meets-adversity-in-the-big-mean-city culture shock later.

I begrudgingly took his seasoned wisdom to heart and went to bed feeling rather glass half-empty.

I didn’t dream that night but woke up to find my fairytale world had returned to normalcy. A teacher emailed me that she’d put my laptop in the language office—and that she had charged it overnight since I didn’t get the chance to. Hallelujah, Christmas morning had come early. (Madame Camp, if you’re reading this, I owe you one).

A teacher I’d never had, who I’d never talked to one-on-one, went out of her way to not only save my computer from potential damage or theft but was even thoughtful enough to make sure that it would be ready for school the next day.

Hang on while I google a verb for “the unpopping of an object.”

So, if you don’t mind, I’m just going to stay in my comfortable Hockabubble for another year and a half while I still can.