I’m not sure if it was a dead animal or just cheese grits.
tweet thisFiled under: Deep South, Everyday, faith, family, life, writing
They’ve got something with doors, around here. It’s the oddest thing: no double doors are both unlocked, at the same time. Only one side is. Ever. And you never know which side because it’s never the same side. This causes no end of embarrassment, as you can imagine. Especially for me, a new faculty member. Call me crazy but it really is a blow to your credibility when you can’t even open a door properly. It’s happened to me twice already today. This morning as I went to deliver the receipts from my conference trip, I turned back to tell the secretary, “Have a good...
I don't believe I cared much for sixth grade.
I don't believe I cared much for sixth grade. I was already fully in the grips of a terrific identity crisis (mostly sexual) by the time I was rounding out my junior high years. At my school, sixth grade was the last grade on the junior high side. Seventh graders had to move around to the right side of the building, and that side was high school. They also had more than one teacher, and several different classrooms. That didn't shock me nearly as much as when I was told they also had periods. Even the boys. I was terrified of high school. ...
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