Cleaning and organizing in my house can be a veritable treasure hunt. As a recovering pack rat, I constantly find things that brings back memories I’ve almost forgotten, especially from that hazy age of life called high school.
In the 1900’s, as a freshman in high school I was nerdy and awkward. Or maybe I was normal but I constantly felt nerdy and awkward. I was also painfully shy, a social disability I’ve since recovered from in full, but as a baby high schooler lunchtime was overwhelming for me. A beloved teacher let students in her program take refuge in her office during lunch once a week, and while the tactic was somewhat escapist, it worked out well for me. During these days I chatted over lunch with a few friends and a rather compassionate adult, giggled at the random television programs that came on at lunchtime, and spent one hour of my high school day not worrying what anyone thought. This is the constant plague of the freshman girl – wondering if you are good enough, if people really like you, if you will ever escape the inadequacy you feel in the halls of your high school. Mrs. Walker’s “class” was like a vacation from all of that, and to this day if you asked me what I remember about my freshman year of high school there isn’t too much, but I do remember her and the time she took to get to know us. Thanks Mrs. Walker and teachers everywhere like you – you are the ones that last in our memories when we no longer need the hall pass and all the algebra and chemistry and teenage awkwardness has faded away.