The Tyrant of Second Grade
I was scared to death. It was my first day of second grade, and I was terrified to the point of regurgitation. “Please don’t make me go to school,” I begged my mother.
Citizen Writers Fighting Censorship by Helping Americans Understand Issues Affecting the Republic.
I was scared to death. It was my first day of second grade, and I was terrified to the point of regurgitation. “Please don’t make me go to school,” I begged my mother.
All the kids were sitting criss-cross on the floor in a big hotel lobby, some sipping from paper cups of hot chocolate, most wearing pajamas.
The Little League team was good. Really good. The nine mop-haired, lanky boys, clad in classic ‘70s harvest-gold uniforms, were undefeated this season. They had a shot at the pennant. But then, devastation.
Dear Kid,
Don’t grow up. Don’t turn into an adult. That’s my advice. Resist adulthood. Be a kid forever.
Right now, a lot of adults are angry in America. To be fair, we have a lot to be angry about. But adults can behave badly when they are angry. So please forgive us.
The school cafeteria. The boys were all sitting together, doing what teenage boys do. Horsing around, talking about girls, probably trying to make milk spew from each other’s nostrils.
The persistent shortage of teachers within government schools continues to perplex educational institutions and policymakers alike.