Mr. J

Through the miracle of Facebook, the cyber stalker's ally, A now-teacher friend of mine named Kristen got in touch and asked if I'd like to do a presentation about one red paperclip at her school. When I found out where she teaches, I jumped at the chance: My old Elementary School. It's pretty strange to go back to your old elementary school and drink out of the same water fountains you used back in 1985. Yeah, they're really low to the ground, but what gave me crazy flashbacks was the taste of the water. And the fact that my grade 6 and 7 teacher, Mr. J's voice could still be heard while I bent down and lapped up the water. We went to Anmore Elementary from Kindergarten right through to grade 7. Eight years of busing up the hill to Anmore and back every day. Eight solid years of formative whatever-you-wanna-call-ems brought back with the sound of Mr. J's voice. We'd get him going on an amazing story and the hours would just pass by like we weren't in school at all. Day after day. Sometimes the same stories, but always good. The you lean forward to hear better. Yeah, those ones. Kurt Vonnegut often talks about that one teacher who made an impression on your life more than all others in his commencement addresses. That's you, Mr. J. Thanks again.

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