His parents didn't necessarily approve, but they were smart enough to use it to motivate him to do well in school.

"You'll never get into the Space Legion if you don't do your math problems," his father would say, and that was all Zigger needed to dig in for another round of attrition and subduction. Or, if he didn't like something his mother had made for supper, she would say, "Eat up, little one-you have to be a big, strong, healthy Lepoid to join the Space Legion!" And Zigger would gobble down the last few pieces of brittleroot on his plate. It worked every time, and even after Zigger figured out what his mom was doing, he didn't stop listening. After all, it stood to reason that she was probably right. And so young Zigger grew up strong and smart, and all his teachers said he could be anything he wanted to when he grew up.

That pleased Zigger. But all he really cared about in life was joining the Space Legion when he grew up. So when he hopped onto the stage to receive his school diploma (with honors in three subjects, though not the highest honors-those went to Snickly, who was a grind and a suckup anyway), and citations as an All-Teloon athlete in three different sports, and a plaque for Good Citizenship, everyone expected great things of him. The commencement speaker had told the young Lepoids that the universe was their tuber, and even though the graduates knew it was a cliche, most of them were willing to believe it for a moment, at least.

So it came as a considerable shock to Zigger when his parents put their feet firmly down in opposition to his announcement that he was going to join the Space Legion instead of going on to Harevard University, where his grades (not to mention his prowess at running and jumping) were certain to earn him a scholarship.