When I took Jordan to the mall play area the other day, about a half dozen teenage boys walked in. At first, I thought they should not be there since they were quite clearly over the 46" height limit. But once I saw one of them with a little boy who was probably someone's little brother, that concern disappeared. Unfortunately, it was replaced by something far more agitating: the realization that I was old enough to be the mother of these boys. When I was in high school, chances are these boys were not even born. And for whatever reason, that disturbed me. Actually, when I think about those boys, I am reminded that at some point during my senior year in high school, I decided I wanted to be a teacher. This was after years of toying with careers in acting, biochemistry (without ever having taken a biology or chemistry class), law, social work, psychology, and I cannot remember what else. I ended up choosing high school English for a number of reasons: I really liked my English ...
The various, and usually long-winded, thoughts that swim around my head.