When I moved from third grade to fourth, Mrs. King kept giving me mimeographed short-story assignments—even though I was no longer in her class—because she saw something in my scribblings she thought was worth encouraging.
Happy Teacher’s Day and a heartfelt thank-you to my first fan—and to all of the teachers who do whatever they can think of to keep pain-in-the-ass kids like me showing up and, to whatever degree possible, engaged.
Way down deep, beneath the obstinance, wise-assery, and chewed-up scrambled eggs I pretended to throw up so I wouldn’t have to go to school, I always suspected you were right.
You were.
Now please turn your back while I bang out another brick-wall obscenity with these erasers I’m supposed to be cleaning.
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