Last weekend I rummaged through my parents’ attic, where I’d stored my classroom supplies during my three-year hiatus from teaching in Hartford. There I encountered five signs scribbled furiously on a series of whiteboards. The first one read, “I’m waiting.” The second: “Any time you’re ready.” The third: “Is this thing on?” The fourth: “My blood pressure right now: 160/80.” The fifth: “Every mouth in this room shuts NOW!”
Ah, another year of molding, inspiring and delighting those thirsty teenage minds.