It occurred to me the other day that I only had one teacher that I liked in Middle School. He had a last name that sounded reminiscent of hurt toe, but the rumor going around was that anyone who called him that would be suspended multiple days out-of-school — and that that had, in fact, happened to other kids in the past. Middle School are hard years for kids looking back on it now; I’d imagine they are hard years for teachers too. They are undoubtedly the teachers who drew the short straw, to do the arduous work of being teachers of Middle School. I’m reminded of the European movie The Class.

Eighth grade I’d consider to be my best behaved year of Middle School, and even then I was banned/banished from all (or most) of the class trips. I’m sure that I was among the top five or ten in demerits — or whatever they were called back then. Yeah, I was a real riffraff then. I wore it as a badge of honor at the time too. Fortunately, I’ve long since grown out of that phase now, or I’d most assuredly, be writing this missive to you coming from a prison cell.

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