Ms. Frizzle tapped her chalkboard, her earrings—miniature glowing nebulas—jingling with every movement. "Class, today we aren't just studying history," she beamed, her dress patterned with shifting tectonic plates. "We’re going to be part of it!"
"Class, look!" Ms. Frizzle pointed. "A protostar is forming!" The Magic School Bus
"I knew I should have stayed home today," Arnold sighed, though even he couldn't hide a small smile at the sight of the glowing newborn solar system. Ms. Frizzle tapped her chalkboard
The bus shrunken down until they were weaving between microscopic ice crystals and massive boulders of iron. They watched as gravity began to pull the swirling gas into a tight, hot ball. The bus groaned under the pressure, the metal glowing dull red. today we aren't just studying history