Looks like the typical mixed-aliens class. Time for roll.

“Uther.”

“Here,” said a goat-faced biped.

“Arek-ta-Dew.”

“Here,” chirped a winged robinesque perched on her seat at the front.

“Trayl Mixt.”

“Trayl Mixt?”

“Oh, here,” piped a three-armed chimp still chewing.

“Theodor.”

“Present,” said the reverse-centaur: horse head, equine legs, human arms.

A hat?

“Theodor, no hats in class. Remember?”

The hat remained, ears twitching, nostrils flaring.

“Hat. Now.”

Theodor yanked off the hat, revealing a vestigial ivory horn.

Collective gasps sucked air out the classroom.

“Sorry, Mr. Kevnee.”

As Theodor bowed his head, the horn grew my heart three sizes.