School Days

Anne here. I’ve just been invited to a reunion of my high school final year class. It’s a significant year,
Mumschoolgirl2 and the organizer has put out a call for us to contact others in the year and to gather up school memorabilia, old photos and old stories. I’m only in contact with two friends from high school, but we’ve been dredging old memories. When I mentioned this to some other friends, it sparked a discussion about teachers we loved and teachers we hated and ones who made a significant impact on our lives. (That's my mother as a schoolgirl on the right. I'm on my laptop and not at home so I don't have access to most of my pics.)

I initially assumed that because we moved a lot there wasn’t time for any teacher to make a major impact on me, but when I thought about it, a few special people stood out, and the impact they made was probably not one they’d expect to be remembered for. 

Miss Fitcher was my very first teacher. I won’t say she taught me to read — much to my mother’s annoyance, I could read before I started school (Mum thought that wasn’t fair on the teacher.) Miss Fitcher was elderly and white-haired and as well as the 3 R’s, she taught us dozens of songs and poems, many of which I still remember. She loved to read us stories at the end of the day and I’m sure she instilled the love of books in every child she taught. She was my teacher for two years and when we left to live to Scotland, she gave me a St. Christopher medal to keep me safe. We weren't Catholic and my mother wasn't too keen on me wearing it, but I still have that little medal. Thank you Miss Fitcher.(Here's a pic of me at school in Scotland that I just pulled off my own website. Can you pick me out? I explain which one is me on my website.)

AnnescotlandNext was Mr. Tresize, who was the school librarian when I was in year 5 and 6— the final years of primary (elementary) school. My friend, Alicia (pronounced A liss ee ya, not Aleesha) and I were both great readers, and we got into the habit of borrowing a books of about the same length and then racing to finish them first. It got so that we were borrowing a book every night, and Mr. Tresize didn’t believe we really were reading them, so he tested us on each book before we could borrow a new one. That made us both good, fast, effective readers. So thank you Mr. Tresize.

Next was Mrs. Reckenburg, my maths teacher in year 8 (2nd year of high school.) When she found out my father had been promoted again and we were moving to the city, it was she who pointed out the area we were going to had a terrible reputation. At this stage, I’d been to six different schools in six different towns in eight years, and the chances were we’d move again in a year or two. She arranged for me to sit an exam for an academic high school in the city — and that’s where I ended up spending the last four years of my schooling. It was a great school and when two years later my father’s job took us to the opposite side of the city, I was able to keep the school and my friends. It took me 90 minutes to get to school but I did my homework on the train. So thank you Mrs. Reckenburg.

At that next school I had a science teacher called Mr. Paddy Meagher (pronounced Marr.) He looked like My Favorite Martian and he was crazy and clever and hilariously funny and he made science such an adventure. To this day when I think of photosynthesis, I think of Paddy Meagher in his leopard skin bikinis, sun bathing on the top of the nurses quarters of the hospital behind the school, drinking water and eating candy supposedly called Chlorophillies — and failing to photosynthesize because he lacked the right enzymes. Science class was a joy to attend. Thank you Paddy Meagher.
UHS

Lastly was Mrs. Yvette White, who took me for history in year 11. She was heading toward retirement age when she had us, but she had a wonderfully flexible and original mind. More than anything, she taught us to think and to reason and debate ideas and all kinds of propositions. It wasn’t enough to learn historical facts — it was what you did with the facts that counted. She also encouraged me to incorporate creative writing with history, which history teachers simply didn’t do in those days. . . and well, I’m still doing it. So thank you Mrs. White.

I had a very different history teacher the following year. I won’t say his name, because I don’t have fond memories. He was a loud, blustering fellow who handed out notes by the ream, but spent most of the class strutting up and down at the front of the class, sounding off. He delighted in humiliating students and prided himself on marking very hard. If you got 12 out of 20 for an essay, you were doing well with him. He smoked non-stop in the classroom and when anyone complained he’d blow smoke in their face. My, how times have changed.

What about you? Do you have good memories of school, or bad ones? Do you still keep touch with any school friends? Are there any teachers you remember with fondness — or acrimony? Any things that were commonplace at school in your day that would be unthinkable now? Tell us about your school days.

65 thoughts on “School Days”

  1. I think we all must have those stories and teachers. I had a geometry instructor (Mr. Rucker, I’m sure you can imagine what we called him behind his back) who never once said my name correctly. I finally stopped attempting to correct him. I also stopped answering. When he sent me to the office for refusing to answer in class, I simply pointed out that he had never called on me. As he and the principal insisted that I knew he *meant* me when he mangled my name beyond all recognition, I told them that I didn’t think it was too much to ask that a supposedly college educated man pronounce a five letter, phonetically spelled word. They called my parents, who backed me, and I was transferred to another class.
    On the upside, I loved all my science and English teachers, but most especially Mr. Jacobson (who I had both sophomore and senior year). He was an ex-Marine, who loved to shout, “Put that poggie bait away!” if he caught you eating in class, but he was also brilliant and funny and smart and all the things you’d want in a teacher. For senior year, which was Advanced Placement for me, he treated us like college students and he really taught us how to write a proper research paper. I got through grad school on what he taught me that year.
    In place your brilliant Mr. Meagher, I had Mr. Lusk for AP Chemistry. He did a dance that illustrated the periodic table that was legendary. Alas, I caught mono AND strep and missed. I still feel as though I was robbed. I had to make up all the work, but I never did get to see that dance.

    Reply
  2. I think we all must have those stories and teachers. I had a geometry instructor (Mr. Rucker, I’m sure you can imagine what we called him behind his back) who never once said my name correctly. I finally stopped attempting to correct him. I also stopped answering. When he sent me to the office for refusing to answer in class, I simply pointed out that he had never called on me. As he and the principal insisted that I knew he *meant* me when he mangled my name beyond all recognition, I told them that I didn’t think it was too much to ask that a supposedly college educated man pronounce a five letter, phonetically spelled word. They called my parents, who backed me, and I was transferred to another class.
    On the upside, I loved all my science and English teachers, but most especially Mr. Jacobson (who I had both sophomore and senior year). He was an ex-Marine, who loved to shout, “Put that poggie bait away!” if he caught you eating in class, but he was also brilliant and funny and smart and all the things you’d want in a teacher. For senior year, which was Advanced Placement for me, he treated us like college students and he really taught us how to write a proper research paper. I got through grad school on what he taught me that year.
    In place your brilliant Mr. Meagher, I had Mr. Lusk for AP Chemistry. He did a dance that illustrated the periodic table that was legendary. Alas, I caught mono AND strep and missed. I still feel as though I was robbed. I had to make up all the work, but I never did get to see that dance.

    Reply
  3. I think we all must have those stories and teachers. I had a geometry instructor (Mr. Rucker, I’m sure you can imagine what we called him behind his back) who never once said my name correctly. I finally stopped attempting to correct him. I also stopped answering. When he sent me to the office for refusing to answer in class, I simply pointed out that he had never called on me. As he and the principal insisted that I knew he *meant* me when he mangled my name beyond all recognition, I told them that I didn’t think it was too much to ask that a supposedly college educated man pronounce a five letter, phonetically spelled word. They called my parents, who backed me, and I was transferred to another class.
    On the upside, I loved all my science and English teachers, but most especially Mr. Jacobson (who I had both sophomore and senior year). He was an ex-Marine, who loved to shout, “Put that poggie bait away!” if he caught you eating in class, but he was also brilliant and funny and smart and all the things you’d want in a teacher. For senior year, which was Advanced Placement for me, he treated us like college students and he really taught us how to write a proper research paper. I got through grad school on what he taught me that year.
    In place your brilliant Mr. Meagher, I had Mr. Lusk for AP Chemistry. He did a dance that illustrated the periodic table that was legendary. Alas, I caught mono AND strep and missed. I still feel as though I was robbed. I had to make up all the work, but I never did get to see that dance.

    Reply
  4. I think we all must have those stories and teachers. I had a geometry instructor (Mr. Rucker, I’m sure you can imagine what we called him behind his back) who never once said my name correctly. I finally stopped attempting to correct him. I also stopped answering. When he sent me to the office for refusing to answer in class, I simply pointed out that he had never called on me. As he and the principal insisted that I knew he *meant* me when he mangled my name beyond all recognition, I told them that I didn’t think it was too much to ask that a supposedly college educated man pronounce a five letter, phonetically spelled word. They called my parents, who backed me, and I was transferred to another class.
    On the upside, I loved all my science and English teachers, but most especially Mr. Jacobson (who I had both sophomore and senior year). He was an ex-Marine, who loved to shout, “Put that poggie bait away!” if he caught you eating in class, but he was also brilliant and funny and smart and all the things you’d want in a teacher. For senior year, which was Advanced Placement for me, he treated us like college students and he really taught us how to write a proper research paper. I got through grad school on what he taught me that year.
    In place your brilliant Mr. Meagher, I had Mr. Lusk for AP Chemistry. He did a dance that illustrated the periodic table that was legendary. Alas, I caught mono AND strep and missed. I still feel as though I was robbed. I had to make up all the work, but I never did get to see that dance.

    Reply
  5. I think we all must have those stories and teachers. I had a geometry instructor (Mr. Rucker, I’m sure you can imagine what we called him behind his back) who never once said my name correctly. I finally stopped attempting to correct him. I also stopped answering. When he sent me to the office for refusing to answer in class, I simply pointed out that he had never called on me. As he and the principal insisted that I knew he *meant* me when he mangled my name beyond all recognition, I told them that I didn’t think it was too much to ask that a supposedly college educated man pronounce a five letter, phonetically spelled word. They called my parents, who backed me, and I was transferred to another class.
    On the upside, I loved all my science and English teachers, but most especially Mr. Jacobson (who I had both sophomore and senior year). He was an ex-Marine, who loved to shout, “Put that poggie bait away!” if he caught you eating in class, but he was also brilliant and funny and smart and all the things you’d want in a teacher. For senior year, which was Advanced Placement for me, he treated us like college students and he really taught us how to write a proper research paper. I got through grad school on what he taught me that year.
    In place your brilliant Mr. Meagher, I had Mr. Lusk for AP Chemistry. He did a dance that illustrated the periodic table that was legendary. Alas, I caught mono AND strep and missed. I still feel as though I was robbed. I had to make up all the work, but I never did get to see that dance.

    Reply
  6. I liked school, from kindergarten through grad school. If it hadn’t been for the necessity of earning a living, I would have been happy to be a student forever, earning a series of degrees. My best friends today include some who have been important in my life at all the various stages of my education. My BFF and I bonded over a disappointment in rhythm band assignments when we were four, and more than half a century later, we can still talk for hours over lunch or on the phone.
    I had very few bad teachers–a third grade teacher who was just marking time until she could retire, a health ed teacher who couldn’t control her classes, and a biology teacher who hated girls. I did have my share of mediocre ones who did no harm but never challenged or inspired me either. But I also had some wonderful teachers: Mrs Gibson in fourth grade who loved teaching and loved us, Miss Edna in 6th grade who taught me most of the grammar I ever needed to know and read my stories aloud to the class, Mrs. Dobson in 8th grade who called me a writer and entered a poem and essay in national competitions to be published (I still love saying I was first published at 13), and Miss Owen, my senior American Government teacher, who not only made her subject a lifelong interest for me but also served as my model of all a teacher should be.

    Reply
  7. I liked school, from kindergarten through grad school. If it hadn’t been for the necessity of earning a living, I would have been happy to be a student forever, earning a series of degrees. My best friends today include some who have been important in my life at all the various stages of my education. My BFF and I bonded over a disappointment in rhythm band assignments when we were four, and more than half a century later, we can still talk for hours over lunch or on the phone.
    I had very few bad teachers–a third grade teacher who was just marking time until she could retire, a health ed teacher who couldn’t control her classes, and a biology teacher who hated girls. I did have my share of mediocre ones who did no harm but never challenged or inspired me either. But I also had some wonderful teachers: Mrs Gibson in fourth grade who loved teaching and loved us, Miss Edna in 6th grade who taught me most of the grammar I ever needed to know and read my stories aloud to the class, Mrs. Dobson in 8th grade who called me a writer and entered a poem and essay in national competitions to be published (I still love saying I was first published at 13), and Miss Owen, my senior American Government teacher, who not only made her subject a lifelong interest for me but also served as my model of all a teacher should be.

    Reply
  8. I liked school, from kindergarten through grad school. If it hadn’t been for the necessity of earning a living, I would have been happy to be a student forever, earning a series of degrees. My best friends today include some who have been important in my life at all the various stages of my education. My BFF and I bonded over a disappointment in rhythm band assignments when we were four, and more than half a century later, we can still talk for hours over lunch or on the phone.
    I had very few bad teachers–a third grade teacher who was just marking time until she could retire, a health ed teacher who couldn’t control her classes, and a biology teacher who hated girls. I did have my share of mediocre ones who did no harm but never challenged or inspired me either. But I also had some wonderful teachers: Mrs Gibson in fourth grade who loved teaching and loved us, Miss Edna in 6th grade who taught me most of the grammar I ever needed to know and read my stories aloud to the class, Mrs. Dobson in 8th grade who called me a writer and entered a poem and essay in national competitions to be published (I still love saying I was first published at 13), and Miss Owen, my senior American Government teacher, who not only made her subject a lifelong interest for me but also served as my model of all a teacher should be.

    Reply
  9. I liked school, from kindergarten through grad school. If it hadn’t been for the necessity of earning a living, I would have been happy to be a student forever, earning a series of degrees. My best friends today include some who have been important in my life at all the various stages of my education. My BFF and I bonded over a disappointment in rhythm band assignments when we were four, and more than half a century later, we can still talk for hours over lunch or on the phone.
    I had very few bad teachers–a third grade teacher who was just marking time until she could retire, a health ed teacher who couldn’t control her classes, and a biology teacher who hated girls. I did have my share of mediocre ones who did no harm but never challenged or inspired me either. But I also had some wonderful teachers: Mrs Gibson in fourth grade who loved teaching and loved us, Miss Edna in 6th grade who taught me most of the grammar I ever needed to know and read my stories aloud to the class, Mrs. Dobson in 8th grade who called me a writer and entered a poem and essay in national competitions to be published (I still love saying I was first published at 13), and Miss Owen, my senior American Government teacher, who not only made her subject a lifelong interest for me but also served as my model of all a teacher should be.

    Reply
  10. I liked school, from kindergarten through grad school. If it hadn’t been for the necessity of earning a living, I would have been happy to be a student forever, earning a series of degrees. My best friends today include some who have been important in my life at all the various stages of my education. My BFF and I bonded over a disappointment in rhythm band assignments when we were four, and more than half a century later, we can still talk for hours over lunch or on the phone.
    I had very few bad teachers–a third grade teacher who was just marking time until she could retire, a health ed teacher who couldn’t control her classes, and a biology teacher who hated girls. I did have my share of mediocre ones who did no harm but never challenged or inspired me either. But I also had some wonderful teachers: Mrs Gibson in fourth grade who loved teaching and loved us, Miss Edna in 6th grade who taught me most of the grammar I ever needed to know and read my stories aloud to the class, Mrs. Dobson in 8th grade who called me a writer and entered a poem and essay in national competitions to be published (I still love saying I was first published at 13), and Miss Owen, my senior American Government teacher, who not only made her subject a lifelong interest for me but also served as my model of all a teacher should be.

    Reply
  11. Isobel, I think it’s so rude when people don’t bother to learn their students’ names — I don’t blame you for refusing to answer. I worked with one teacher who claimed she couldn’t pronounce Greek names — actually very easy; they might be long, but they’re beautifully phonetic — and she used to call kids things like Betty Alphabet.
    I’m also sorry you missed out on that legendary periodic table dance. I suspect teachers these days are more “professional” but a lot less interesting. Thanks so much for sharing.

    Reply
  12. Isobel, I think it’s so rude when people don’t bother to learn their students’ names — I don’t blame you for refusing to answer. I worked with one teacher who claimed she couldn’t pronounce Greek names — actually very easy; they might be long, but they’re beautifully phonetic — and she used to call kids things like Betty Alphabet.
    I’m also sorry you missed out on that legendary periodic table dance. I suspect teachers these days are more “professional” but a lot less interesting. Thanks so much for sharing.

    Reply
  13. Isobel, I think it’s so rude when people don’t bother to learn their students’ names — I don’t blame you for refusing to answer. I worked with one teacher who claimed she couldn’t pronounce Greek names — actually very easy; they might be long, but they’re beautifully phonetic — and she used to call kids things like Betty Alphabet.
    I’m also sorry you missed out on that legendary periodic table dance. I suspect teachers these days are more “professional” but a lot less interesting. Thanks so much for sharing.

    Reply
  14. Isobel, I think it’s so rude when people don’t bother to learn their students’ names — I don’t blame you for refusing to answer. I worked with one teacher who claimed she couldn’t pronounce Greek names — actually very easy; they might be long, but they’re beautifully phonetic — and she used to call kids things like Betty Alphabet.
    I’m also sorry you missed out on that legendary periodic table dance. I suspect teachers these days are more “professional” but a lot less interesting. Thanks so much for sharing.

    Reply
  15. Isobel, I think it’s so rude when people don’t bother to learn their students’ names — I don’t blame you for refusing to answer. I worked with one teacher who claimed she couldn’t pronounce Greek names — actually very easy; they might be long, but they’re beautifully phonetic — and she used to call kids things like Betty Alphabet.
    I’m also sorry you missed out on that legendary periodic table dance. I suspect teachers these days are more “professional” but a lot less interesting. Thanks so much for sharing.

    Reply
  16. Janga, how can anyone possibly disappoint a four-year-old with a rhythm assignment? Hugs. I can just imagine a joyous four-year-old banging enthusiastically. But lovely that you had a friend to bond with and that friendship stuck. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve kept from that last school I went to — I’ve never seen the others from all the schools before that.
    I loved your tribute to your teachers — and especially that you felt some loved you. I think some of the best teachers do love their students, and that’s what brings out the best in them. I wish I’d tracked down my good teachers and told them how wonderful they were; I’m sure it’s too late for most of them.

    Reply
  17. Janga, how can anyone possibly disappoint a four-year-old with a rhythm assignment? Hugs. I can just imagine a joyous four-year-old banging enthusiastically. But lovely that you had a friend to bond with and that friendship stuck. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve kept from that last school I went to — I’ve never seen the others from all the schools before that.
    I loved your tribute to your teachers — and especially that you felt some loved you. I think some of the best teachers do love their students, and that’s what brings out the best in them. I wish I’d tracked down my good teachers and told them how wonderful they were; I’m sure it’s too late for most of them.

    Reply
  18. Janga, how can anyone possibly disappoint a four-year-old with a rhythm assignment? Hugs. I can just imagine a joyous four-year-old banging enthusiastically. But lovely that you had a friend to bond with and that friendship stuck. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve kept from that last school I went to — I’ve never seen the others from all the schools before that.
    I loved your tribute to your teachers — and especially that you felt some loved you. I think some of the best teachers do love their students, and that’s what brings out the best in them. I wish I’d tracked down my good teachers and told them how wonderful they were; I’m sure it’s too late for most of them.

    Reply
  19. Janga, how can anyone possibly disappoint a four-year-old with a rhythm assignment? Hugs. I can just imagine a joyous four-year-old banging enthusiastically. But lovely that you had a friend to bond with and that friendship stuck. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve kept from that last school I went to — I’ve never seen the others from all the schools before that.
    I loved your tribute to your teachers — and especially that you felt some loved you. I think some of the best teachers do love their students, and that’s what brings out the best in them. I wish I’d tracked down my good teachers and told them how wonderful they were; I’m sure it’s too late for most of them.

    Reply
  20. Janga, how can anyone possibly disappoint a four-year-old with a rhythm assignment? Hugs. I can just imagine a joyous four-year-old banging enthusiastically. But lovely that you had a friend to bond with and that friendship stuck. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve kept from that last school I went to — I’ve never seen the others from all the schools before that.
    I loved your tribute to your teachers — and especially that you felt some loved you. I think some of the best teachers do love their students, and that’s what brings out the best in them. I wish I’d tracked down my good teachers and told them how wonderful they were; I’m sure it’s too late for most of them.

    Reply
  21. I have often said teaching is not a job, it is a calling. Many people do the job, but few people answer the calling.
    I was so very fortunate in my first grade teacher, Mrs. Chance. I was an awful student to have in class as I could already read, had been reading since I was four. I grew very impatient with the other children who could not read the flash cards. There were no programs for gifted students in those days. Mrs. Chance had me tested and then suggested a unique program for me. I sat in her class for an hour and completed my first grade work and after that I spent the rest of the day in the library reading! This routine held true for the first four years of my education and I ended up reading every book in our K-12 library before we were transferred to England. Fortunately there I was placed in the Air Force base school’s gifted program. And in the sixth grade there I met, Mr. Floyd Agers, one of the most amazing teachers I have ever known. You had to take care of the questions you asked in his class as he would say “That’s an excellent question. Why don’t you research that and report back to the class in a week?” He taught us how to do research in the library and how to right papers and complete projects. He taught us about current events by allowing us to debate them or to do mock trials. He took us to Stratford on Avon for an entire week. We developed personal reading lists and had to write reviews of what we’d read. He challenged us at every turn and we were determined not to let him down because he never doubted we could do what we set out to do. Mr. Agers was the first person to tell my parents I had real musical talent and he arranged for me to study piano and music theory at the London College of Music at the age of nine. I recently heard from one of my classmates, a man I hadn’t seen in forty years. He saw a post I did on Mr. Agers and got in touch with me because he hoped I knew where to find him. Unfortunately I don’t. My classmate now has his own construction and design firm, a firm which does major airport and highway design projects. We both would love to tell Mr. Agers what he meant and continues to mean to us.

    Reply
  22. I have often said teaching is not a job, it is a calling. Many people do the job, but few people answer the calling.
    I was so very fortunate in my first grade teacher, Mrs. Chance. I was an awful student to have in class as I could already read, had been reading since I was four. I grew very impatient with the other children who could not read the flash cards. There were no programs for gifted students in those days. Mrs. Chance had me tested and then suggested a unique program for me. I sat in her class for an hour and completed my first grade work and after that I spent the rest of the day in the library reading! This routine held true for the first four years of my education and I ended up reading every book in our K-12 library before we were transferred to England. Fortunately there I was placed in the Air Force base school’s gifted program. And in the sixth grade there I met, Mr. Floyd Agers, one of the most amazing teachers I have ever known. You had to take care of the questions you asked in his class as he would say “That’s an excellent question. Why don’t you research that and report back to the class in a week?” He taught us how to do research in the library and how to right papers and complete projects. He taught us about current events by allowing us to debate them or to do mock trials. He took us to Stratford on Avon for an entire week. We developed personal reading lists and had to write reviews of what we’d read. He challenged us at every turn and we were determined not to let him down because he never doubted we could do what we set out to do. Mr. Agers was the first person to tell my parents I had real musical talent and he arranged for me to study piano and music theory at the London College of Music at the age of nine. I recently heard from one of my classmates, a man I hadn’t seen in forty years. He saw a post I did on Mr. Agers and got in touch with me because he hoped I knew where to find him. Unfortunately I don’t. My classmate now has his own construction and design firm, a firm which does major airport and highway design projects. We both would love to tell Mr. Agers what he meant and continues to mean to us.

    Reply
  23. I have often said teaching is not a job, it is a calling. Many people do the job, but few people answer the calling.
    I was so very fortunate in my first grade teacher, Mrs. Chance. I was an awful student to have in class as I could already read, had been reading since I was four. I grew very impatient with the other children who could not read the flash cards. There were no programs for gifted students in those days. Mrs. Chance had me tested and then suggested a unique program for me. I sat in her class for an hour and completed my first grade work and after that I spent the rest of the day in the library reading! This routine held true for the first four years of my education and I ended up reading every book in our K-12 library before we were transferred to England. Fortunately there I was placed in the Air Force base school’s gifted program. And in the sixth grade there I met, Mr. Floyd Agers, one of the most amazing teachers I have ever known. You had to take care of the questions you asked in his class as he would say “That’s an excellent question. Why don’t you research that and report back to the class in a week?” He taught us how to do research in the library and how to right papers and complete projects. He taught us about current events by allowing us to debate them or to do mock trials. He took us to Stratford on Avon for an entire week. We developed personal reading lists and had to write reviews of what we’d read. He challenged us at every turn and we were determined not to let him down because he never doubted we could do what we set out to do. Mr. Agers was the first person to tell my parents I had real musical talent and he arranged for me to study piano and music theory at the London College of Music at the age of nine. I recently heard from one of my classmates, a man I hadn’t seen in forty years. He saw a post I did on Mr. Agers and got in touch with me because he hoped I knew where to find him. Unfortunately I don’t. My classmate now has his own construction and design firm, a firm which does major airport and highway design projects. We both would love to tell Mr. Agers what he meant and continues to mean to us.

    Reply
  24. I have often said teaching is not a job, it is a calling. Many people do the job, but few people answer the calling.
    I was so very fortunate in my first grade teacher, Mrs. Chance. I was an awful student to have in class as I could already read, had been reading since I was four. I grew very impatient with the other children who could not read the flash cards. There were no programs for gifted students in those days. Mrs. Chance had me tested and then suggested a unique program for me. I sat in her class for an hour and completed my first grade work and after that I spent the rest of the day in the library reading! This routine held true for the first four years of my education and I ended up reading every book in our K-12 library before we were transferred to England. Fortunately there I was placed in the Air Force base school’s gifted program. And in the sixth grade there I met, Mr. Floyd Agers, one of the most amazing teachers I have ever known. You had to take care of the questions you asked in his class as he would say “That’s an excellent question. Why don’t you research that and report back to the class in a week?” He taught us how to do research in the library and how to right papers and complete projects. He taught us about current events by allowing us to debate them or to do mock trials. He took us to Stratford on Avon for an entire week. We developed personal reading lists and had to write reviews of what we’d read. He challenged us at every turn and we were determined not to let him down because he never doubted we could do what we set out to do. Mr. Agers was the first person to tell my parents I had real musical talent and he arranged for me to study piano and music theory at the London College of Music at the age of nine. I recently heard from one of my classmates, a man I hadn’t seen in forty years. He saw a post I did on Mr. Agers and got in touch with me because he hoped I knew where to find him. Unfortunately I don’t. My classmate now has his own construction and design firm, a firm which does major airport and highway design projects. We both would love to tell Mr. Agers what he meant and continues to mean to us.

    Reply
  25. I have often said teaching is not a job, it is a calling. Many people do the job, but few people answer the calling.
    I was so very fortunate in my first grade teacher, Mrs. Chance. I was an awful student to have in class as I could already read, had been reading since I was four. I grew very impatient with the other children who could not read the flash cards. There were no programs for gifted students in those days. Mrs. Chance had me tested and then suggested a unique program for me. I sat in her class for an hour and completed my first grade work and after that I spent the rest of the day in the library reading! This routine held true for the first four years of my education and I ended up reading every book in our K-12 library before we were transferred to England. Fortunately there I was placed in the Air Force base school’s gifted program. And in the sixth grade there I met, Mr. Floyd Agers, one of the most amazing teachers I have ever known. You had to take care of the questions you asked in his class as he would say “That’s an excellent question. Why don’t you research that and report back to the class in a week?” He taught us how to do research in the library and how to right papers and complete projects. He taught us about current events by allowing us to debate them or to do mock trials. He took us to Stratford on Avon for an entire week. We developed personal reading lists and had to write reviews of what we’d read. He challenged us at every turn and we were determined not to let him down because he never doubted we could do what we set out to do. Mr. Agers was the first person to tell my parents I had real musical talent and he arranged for me to study piano and music theory at the London College of Music at the age of nine. I recently heard from one of my classmates, a man I hadn’t seen in forty years. He saw a post I did on Mr. Agers and got in touch with me because he hoped I knew where to find him. Unfortunately I don’t. My classmate now has his own construction and design firm, a firm which does major airport and highway design projects. We both would love to tell Mr. Agers what he meant and continues to mean to us.

    Reply
  26. I did most of my primary schooling in Kenya in the 1960s at a school that probably made Jane Eyre’s Lowood look progressive. Coming to Australia was a revelation. I fell in love with school.
    In Form 3 we had “Miss Robinson” for English. Poor dear was very much on the plain side and the sort of old fashioned teacher who still wore a gown to class. She tried (unsuccessfully) to drill the rudiments of English Grammar into a class of hormonal 14 year olds.
    But what she gave me was my first taste of writing…I wrote “The Stones of Chichen Itza” – an archaeological mystery divided into chapters and, not a woman given to praise, she told me I had the makings of a writer. Grammar notwithstanding, she was probably the biggest influence on my life.

    Reply
  27. I did most of my primary schooling in Kenya in the 1960s at a school that probably made Jane Eyre’s Lowood look progressive. Coming to Australia was a revelation. I fell in love with school.
    In Form 3 we had “Miss Robinson” for English. Poor dear was very much on the plain side and the sort of old fashioned teacher who still wore a gown to class. She tried (unsuccessfully) to drill the rudiments of English Grammar into a class of hormonal 14 year olds.
    But what she gave me was my first taste of writing…I wrote “The Stones of Chichen Itza” – an archaeological mystery divided into chapters and, not a woman given to praise, she told me I had the makings of a writer. Grammar notwithstanding, she was probably the biggest influence on my life.

    Reply
  28. I did most of my primary schooling in Kenya in the 1960s at a school that probably made Jane Eyre’s Lowood look progressive. Coming to Australia was a revelation. I fell in love with school.
    In Form 3 we had “Miss Robinson” for English. Poor dear was very much on the plain side and the sort of old fashioned teacher who still wore a gown to class. She tried (unsuccessfully) to drill the rudiments of English Grammar into a class of hormonal 14 year olds.
    But what she gave me was my first taste of writing…I wrote “The Stones of Chichen Itza” – an archaeological mystery divided into chapters and, not a woman given to praise, she told me I had the makings of a writer. Grammar notwithstanding, she was probably the biggest influence on my life.

    Reply
  29. I did most of my primary schooling in Kenya in the 1960s at a school that probably made Jane Eyre’s Lowood look progressive. Coming to Australia was a revelation. I fell in love with school.
    In Form 3 we had “Miss Robinson” for English. Poor dear was very much on the plain side and the sort of old fashioned teacher who still wore a gown to class. She tried (unsuccessfully) to drill the rudiments of English Grammar into a class of hormonal 14 year olds.
    But what she gave me was my first taste of writing…I wrote “The Stones of Chichen Itza” – an archaeological mystery divided into chapters and, not a woman given to praise, she told me I had the makings of a writer. Grammar notwithstanding, she was probably the biggest influence on my life.

    Reply
  30. I did most of my primary schooling in Kenya in the 1960s at a school that probably made Jane Eyre’s Lowood look progressive. Coming to Australia was a revelation. I fell in love with school.
    In Form 3 we had “Miss Robinson” for English. Poor dear was very much on the plain side and the sort of old fashioned teacher who still wore a gown to class. She tried (unsuccessfully) to drill the rudiments of English Grammar into a class of hormonal 14 year olds.
    But what she gave me was my first taste of writing…I wrote “The Stones of Chichen Itza” – an archaeological mystery divided into chapters and, not a woman given to praise, she told me I had the makings of a writer. Grammar notwithstanding, she was probably the biggest influence on my life.

    Reply
  31. It’s an interesting topic for me at the moment. I’m looking at primary schools in my area from the perspective of a parent, and feeling a bit sad that my child won’t have some of the amazing opportunities I had at my country primary school. Space for one thing – space with lots of huge old peppercorn trees, and places to hide and dream.
    My primary school also had (still has!) an item on the curriculum which I think is a bit unique – the annual Mapypole dance at the school garden party. In my day (1970s), the school had three maypoles, 14 ribbons each pole. All the grade 6 girls automatically got to dance – any remaining ‘ribbons’ were assigned to girls in grade 5 on the basis of height (tallies first). The only role for the boys was to lean against the poles to hold them up… I did a google search to see if I could find some pictures of our Maypole, and sure enough, there are some on wikipedia. Seems like boys get to dance these days. Yes, things change!
    Some pics for anyone interested:
    Kids at my old primary school doing the ‘spiders web’ formation in 2008 (other formations were the ‘wrap’, the ‘plait’ and the ‘tent’:
    http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VM_0249_Sale_Primary_School_-_Maypole_dance.jpg
    A Maypole exhibition put on by Victorian (my state) school children in 1908, for a visit by the American fleet:
    http://museumvictoria.com.au/collections/items/1702197/photograph-maypole-dance-state-schools-demonstration-american-fleet-exhibition-building-melbourne-1908
    I envy you your final high school, Anne. How lucky you were to have Mrs. Reckenburg on the lookout for you.

    Reply
  32. It’s an interesting topic for me at the moment. I’m looking at primary schools in my area from the perspective of a parent, and feeling a bit sad that my child won’t have some of the amazing opportunities I had at my country primary school. Space for one thing – space with lots of huge old peppercorn trees, and places to hide and dream.
    My primary school also had (still has!) an item on the curriculum which I think is a bit unique – the annual Mapypole dance at the school garden party. In my day (1970s), the school had three maypoles, 14 ribbons each pole. All the grade 6 girls automatically got to dance – any remaining ‘ribbons’ were assigned to girls in grade 5 on the basis of height (tallies first). The only role for the boys was to lean against the poles to hold them up… I did a google search to see if I could find some pictures of our Maypole, and sure enough, there are some on wikipedia. Seems like boys get to dance these days. Yes, things change!
    Some pics for anyone interested:
    Kids at my old primary school doing the ‘spiders web’ formation in 2008 (other formations were the ‘wrap’, the ‘plait’ and the ‘tent’:
    http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VM_0249_Sale_Primary_School_-_Maypole_dance.jpg
    A Maypole exhibition put on by Victorian (my state) school children in 1908, for a visit by the American fleet:
    http://museumvictoria.com.au/collections/items/1702197/photograph-maypole-dance-state-schools-demonstration-american-fleet-exhibition-building-melbourne-1908
    I envy you your final high school, Anne. How lucky you were to have Mrs. Reckenburg on the lookout for you.

    Reply
  33. It’s an interesting topic for me at the moment. I’m looking at primary schools in my area from the perspective of a parent, and feeling a bit sad that my child won’t have some of the amazing opportunities I had at my country primary school. Space for one thing – space with lots of huge old peppercorn trees, and places to hide and dream.
    My primary school also had (still has!) an item on the curriculum which I think is a bit unique – the annual Mapypole dance at the school garden party. In my day (1970s), the school had three maypoles, 14 ribbons each pole. All the grade 6 girls automatically got to dance – any remaining ‘ribbons’ were assigned to girls in grade 5 on the basis of height (tallies first). The only role for the boys was to lean against the poles to hold them up… I did a google search to see if I could find some pictures of our Maypole, and sure enough, there are some on wikipedia. Seems like boys get to dance these days. Yes, things change!
    Some pics for anyone interested:
    Kids at my old primary school doing the ‘spiders web’ formation in 2008 (other formations were the ‘wrap’, the ‘plait’ and the ‘tent’:
    http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VM_0249_Sale_Primary_School_-_Maypole_dance.jpg
    A Maypole exhibition put on by Victorian (my state) school children in 1908, for a visit by the American fleet:
    http://museumvictoria.com.au/collections/items/1702197/photograph-maypole-dance-state-schools-demonstration-american-fleet-exhibition-building-melbourne-1908
    I envy you your final high school, Anne. How lucky you were to have Mrs. Reckenburg on the lookout for you.

    Reply
  34. It’s an interesting topic for me at the moment. I’m looking at primary schools in my area from the perspective of a parent, and feeling a bit sad that my child won’t have some of the amazing opportunities I had at my country primary school. Space for one thing – space with lots of huge old peppercorn trees, and places to hide and dream.
    My primary school also had (still has!) an item on the curriculum which I think is a bit unique – the annual Mapypole dance at the school garden party. In my day (1970s), the school had three maypoles, 14 ribbons each pole. All the grade 6 girls automatically got to dance – any remaining ‘ribbons’ were assigned to girls in grade 5 on the basis of height (tallies first). The only role for the boys was to lean against the poles to hold them up… I did a google search to see if I could find some pictures of our Maypole, and sure enough, there are some on wikipedia. Seems like boys get to dance these days. Yes, things change!
    Some pics for anyone interested:
    Kids at my old primary school doing the ‘spiders web’ formation in 2008 (other formations were the ‘wrap’, the ‘plait’ and the ‘tent’:
    http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VM_0249_Sale_Primary_School_-_Maypole_dance.jpg
    A Maypole exhibition put on by Victorian (my state) school children in 1908, for a visit by the American fleet:
    http://museumvictoria.com.au/collections/items/1702197/photograph-maypole-dance-state-schools-demonstration-american-fleet-exhibition-building-melbourne-1908
    I envy you your final high school, Anne. How lucky you were to have Mrs. Reckenburg on the lookout for you.

    Reply
  35. It’s an interesting topic for me at the moment. I’m looking at primary schools in my area from the perspective of a parent, and feeling a bit sad that my child won’t have some of the amazing opportunities I had at my country primary school. Space for one thing – space with lots of huge old peppercorn trees, and places to hide and dream.
    My primary school also had (still has!) an item on the curriculum which I think is a bit unique – the annual Mapypole dance at the school garden party. In my day (1970s), the school had three maypoles, 14 ribbons each pole. All the grade 6 girls automatically got to dance – any remaining ‘ribbons’ were assigned to girls in grade 5 on the basis of height (tallies first). The only role for the boys was to lean against the poles to hold them up… I did a google search to see if I could find some pictures of our Maypole, and sure enough, there are some on wikipedia. Seems like boys get to dance these days. Yes, things change!
    Some pics for anyone interested:
    Kids at my old primary school doing the ‘spiders web’ formation in 2008 (other formations were the ‘wrap’, the ‘plait’ and the ‘tent’:
    http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:VM_0249_Sale_Primary_School_-_Maypole_dance.jpg
    A Maypole exhibition put on by Victorian (my state) school children in 1908, for a visit by the American fleet:
    http://museumvictoria.com.au/collections/items/1702197/photograph-maypole-dance-state-schools-demonstration-american-fleet-exhibition-building-melbourne-1908
    I envy you your final high school, Anne. How lucky you were to have Mrs. Reckenburg on the lookout for you.

    Reply
  36. Gosh, Louisa, your Mr Agers really did change your life didn’t he, sending you to the music school.
    I so agree with you that teaching is a calling and it sometimes irritates me that so many people think it’s an easy job that anyone can do. As you say, to do it well is something special.
    Alison, so many people first dreamed of being a writer from the early encouragement of teachers. I’d love to hear more of your experiences in that Kenyan school some day.

    Reply
  37. Gosh, Louisa, your Mr Agers really did change your life didn’t he, sending you to the music school.
    I so agree with you that teaching is a calling and it sometimes irritates me that so many people think it’s an easy job that anyone can do. As you say, to do it well is something special.
    Alison, so many people first dreamed of being a writer from the early encouragement of teachers. I’d love to hear more of your experiences in that Kenyan school some day.

    Reply
  38. Gosh, Louisa, your Mr Agers really did change your life didn’t he, sending you to the music school.
    I so agree with you that teaching is a calling and it sometimes irritates me that so many people think it’s an easy job that anyone can do. As you say, to do it well is something special.
    Alison, so many people first dreamed of being a writer from the early encouragement of teachers. I’d love to hear more of your experiences in that Kenyan school some day.

    Reply
  39. Gosh, Louisa, your Mr Agers really did change your life didn’t he, sending you to the music school.
    I so agree with you that teaching is a calling and it sometimes irritates me that so many people think it’s an easy job that anyone can do. As you say, to do it well is something special.
    Alison, so many people first dreamed of being a writer from the early encouragement of teachers. I’d love to hear more of your experiences in that Kenyan school some day.

    Reply
  40. Gosh, Louisa, your Mr Agers really did change your life didn’t he, sending you to the music school.
    I so agree with you that teaching is a calling and it sometimes irritates me that so many people think it’s an easy job that anyone can do. As you say, to do it well is something special.
    Alison, so many people first dreamed of being a writer from the early encouragement of teachers. I’d love to hear more of your experiences in that Kenyan school some day.

    Reply
  41. Shannon, what a fantastic tradition to have kept for so long. I suppose it’s only in a country school that this kind of thing would be continued, as the community would keep it alive. There would be parents and maybe even grandparents there who’d danced around that maypole. Thanks for digging out those pictures for us — lovely stuff.

    Reply
  42. Shannon, what a fantastic tradition to have kept for so long. I suppose it’s only in a country school that this kind of thing would be continued, as the community would keep it alive. There would be parents and maybe even grandparents there who’d danced around that maypole. Thanks for digging out those pictures for us — lovely stuff.

    Reply
  43. Shannon, what a fantastic tradition to have kept for so long. I suppose it’s only in a country school that this kind of thing would be continued, as the community would keep it alive. There would be parents and maybe even grandparents there who’d danced around that maypole. Thanks for digging out those pictures for us — lovely stuff.

    Reply
  44. Shannon, what a fantastic tradition to have kept for so long. I suppose it’s only in a country school that this kind of thing would be continued, as the community would keep it alive. There would be parents and maybe even grandparents there who’d danced around that maypole. Thanks for digging out those pictures for us — lovely stuff.

    Reply
  45. Shannon, what a fantastic tradition to have kept for so long. I suppose it’s only in a country school that this kind of thing would be continued, as the community would keep it alive. There would be parents and maybe even grandparents there who’d danced around that maypole. Thanks for digging out those pictures for us — lovely stuff.

    Reply
  46. Thank you all for remembering and praising teachers. I am currently a teacher in the US and ever time I turn on the news we seem to be the fault of every ill the country has. Your words helped me remember why I teach. Again thank you for lifting me up.

    Reply
  47. Thank you all for remembering and praising teachers. I am currently a teacher in the US and ever time I turn on the news we seem to be the fault of every ill the country has. Your words helped me remember why I teach. Again thank you for lifting me up.

    Reply
  48. Thank you all for remembering and praising teachers. I am currently a teacher in the US and ever time I turn on the news we seem to be the fault of every ill the country has. Your words helped me remember why I teach. Again thank you for lifting me up.

    Reply
  49. Thank you all for remembering and praising teachers. I am currently a teacher in the US and ever time I turn on the news we seem to be the fault of every ill the country has. Your words helped me remember why I teach. Again thank you for lifting me up.

    Reply
  50. Thank you all for remembering and praising teachers. I am currently a teacher in the US and ever time I turn on the news we seem to be the fault of every ill the country has. Your words helped me remember why I teach. Again thank you for lifting me up.

    Reply
  51. Lyn, it’s very easy to make teachers scapegoats for the ills of society — the media treats teachers as a sitting target, I know — but NEVER forget what you do REALLY matters.
    Teaching is one of the most honorable professions. Teachers can change lives, give children opportunities they would otherwise never have, they can build self-confidence and faith in oneself, and enable children to have a better future — and all this under difficult conditions for not very good pay.
    Don’t worry about curing the ills of society — just remember the individuals whose lives you enrich and improve. As you can see from these posts, you can affect lives in ways you might not ever expect, just by taking a personal interest in a child. So be proud of the wonderful work you do, and don’t let the nay-sayers get you down.

    Reply
  52. Lyn, it’s very easy to make teachers scapegoats for the ills of society — the media treats teachers as a sitting target, I know — but NEVER forget what you do REALLY matters.
    Teaching is one of the most honorable professions. Teachers can change lives, give children opportunities they would otherwise never have, they can build self-confidence and faith in oneself, and enable children to have a better future — and all this under difficult conditions for not very good pay.
    Don’t worry about curing the ills of society — just remember the individuals whose lives you enrich and improve. As you can see from these posts, you can affect lives in ways you might not ever expect, just by taking a personal interest in a child. So be proud of the wonderful work you do, and don’t let the nay-sayers get you down.

    Reply
  53. Lyn, it’s very easy to make teachers scapegoats for the ills of society — the media treats teachers as a sitting target, I know — but NEVER forget what you do REALLY matters.
    Teaching is one of the most honorable professions. Teachers can change lives, give children opportunities they would otherwise never have, they can build self-confidence and faith in oneself, and enable children to have a better future — and all this under difficult conditions for not very good pay.
    Don’t worry about curing the ills of society — just remember the individuals whose lives you enrich and improve. As you can see from these posts, you can affect lives in ways you might not ever expect, just by taking a personal interest in a child. So be proud of the wonderful work you do, and don’t let the nay-sayers get you down.

    Reply
  54. Lyn, it’s very easy to make teachers scapegoats for the ills of society — the media treats teachers as a sitting target, I know — but NEVER forget what you do REALLY matters.
    Teaching is one of the most honorable professions. Teachers can change lives, give children opportunities they would otherwise never have, they can build self-confidence and faith in oneself, and enable children to have a better future — and all this under difficult conditions for not very good pay.
    Don’t worry about curing the ills of society — just remember the individuals whose lives you enrich and improve. As you can see from these posts, you can affect lives in ways you might not ever expect, just by taking a personal interest in a child. So be proud of the wonderful work you do, and don’t let the nay-sayers get you down.

    Reply
  55. Lyn, it’s very easy to make teachers scapegoats for the ills of society — the media treats teachers as a sitting target, I know — but NEVER forget what you do REALLY matters.
    Teaching is one of the most honorable professions. Teachers can change lives, give children opportunities they would otherwise never have, they can build self-confidence and faith in oneself, and enable children to have a better future — and all this under difficult conditions for not very good pay.
    Don’t worry about curing the ills of society — just remember the individuals whose lives you enrich and improve. As you can see from these posts, you can affect lives in ways you might not ever expect, just by taking a personal interest in a child. So be proud of the wonderful work you do, and don’t let the nay-sayers get you down.

    Reply
  56. Wonderful post Anne! You’ve brought back lots of memories—most of them good. I was lucky enough to have some fabulous teachers in high school. Mr. Leonard in English and Mr. Allen in history immediately pop to mind. They had a passion for their subjects, which in turn inspired us to see the rich meaning in words, ideas and events. They really challenged us to think beyond the textbooks, and for that I am profoundly grateful. College was an even more exciting time, and I had a number of professors who taught me how to learn for a lifetime.
    There is a core group of about eight of us from high school (often augmented by others who are in the area at the time) who get together regularly for dinner every few months, and it’s such fun to see the friendship and interests that brought us together at that young age are still very strong. We love to laugh and argue just like we did back then, and it’s wonderful to have that camaraderie.
    I am close friends with some of my college classmates as well, and it’s very special to have that connection.

    Reply
  57. Wonderful post Anne! You’ve brought back lots of memories—most of them good. I was lucky enough to have some fabulous teachers in high school. Mr. Leonard in English and Mr. Allen in history immediately pop to mind. They had a passion for their subjects, which in turn inspired us to see the rich meaning in words, ideas and events. They really challenged us to think beyond the textbooks, and for that I am profoundly grateful. College was an even more exciting time, and I had a number of professors who taught me how to learn for a lifetime.
    There is a core group of about eight of us from high school (often augmented by others who are in the area at the time) who get together regularly for dinner every few months, and it’s such fun to see the friendship and interests that brought us together at that young age are still very strong. We love to laugh and argue just like we did back then, and it’s wonderful to have that camaraderie.
    I am close friends with some of my college classmates as well, and it’s very special to have that connection.

    Reply
  58. Wonderful post Anne! You’ve brought back lots of memories—most of them good. I was lucky enough to have some fabulous teachers in high school. Mr. Leonard in English and Mr. Allen in history immediately pop to mind. They had a passion for their subjects, which in turn inspired us to see the rich meaning in words, ideas and events. They really challenged us to think beyond the textbooks, and for that I am profoundly grateful. College was an even more exciting time, and I had a number of professors who taught me how to learn for a lifetime.
    There is a core group of about eight of us from high school (often augmented by others who are in the area at the time) who get together regularly for dinner every few months, and it’s such fun to see the friendship and interests that brought us together at that young age are still very strong. We love to laugh and argue just like we did back then, and it’s wonderful to have that camaraderie.
    I am close friends with some of my college classmates as well, and it’s very special to have that connection.

    Reply
  59. Wonderful post Anne! You’ve brought back lots of memories—most of them good. I was lucky enough to have some fabulous teachers in high school. Mr. Leonard in English and Mr. Allen in history immediately pop to mind. They had a passion for their subjects, which in turn inspired us to see the rich meaning in words, ideas and events. They really challenged us to think beyond the textbooks, and for that I am profoundly grateful. College was an even more exciting time, and I had a number of professors who taught me how to learn for a lifetime.
    There is a core group of about eight of us from high school (often augmented by others who are in the area at the time) who get together regularly for dinner every few months, and it’s such fun to see the friendship and interests that brought us together at that young age are still very strong. We love to laugh and argue just like we did back then, and it’s wonderful to have that camaraderie.
    I am close friends with some of my college classmates as well, and it’s very special to have that connection.

    Reply
  60. Wonderful post Anne! You’ve brought back lots of memories—most of them good. I was lucky enough to have some fabulous teachers in high school. Mr. Leonard in English and Mr. Allen in history immediately pop to mind. They had a passion for their subjects, which in turn inspired us to see the rich meaning in words, ideas and events. They really challenged us to think beyond the textbooks, and for that I am profoundly grateful. College was an even more exciting time, and I had a number of professors who taught me how to learn for a lifetime.
    There is a core group of about eight of us from high school (often augmented by others who are in the area at the time) who get together regularly for dinner every few months, and it’s such fun to see the friendship and interests that brought us together at that young age are still very strong. We love to laugh and argue just like we did back then, and it’s wonderful to have that camaraderie.
    I am close friends with some of my college classmates as well, and it’s very special to have that connection.

    Reply
  61. One thing I really miss about high school is the teachers. They were so helpful to me. I also miss my old friends. High school those were the fun days.

    Reply
  62. One thing I really miss about high school is the teachers. They were so helpful to me. I also miss my old friends. High school those were the fun days.

    Reply
  63. One thing I really miss about high school is the teachers. They were so helpful to me. I also miss my old friends. High school those were the fun days.

    Reply
  64. One thing I really miss about high school is the teachers. They were so helpful to me. I also miss my old friends. High school those were the fun days.

    Reply
  65. One thing I really miss about high school is the teachers. They were so helpful to me. I also miss my old friends. High school those were the fun days.

    Reply

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