Random rants and ruminations
I wish I could write...my eighth grade English teacher was a monster too in his way. He'd send "guided missiles" (miss-isles he'd say in his sort of quasi-Brit accent). Chalk or erasers usually. Sometimes a shoe. If we spoke whispered or shuffled our feet. He aimed for the head and never missed. And he taught me more about poetry, language, and logic than anyone before or since. RIP Bruce Lewis....
Were you still in Catholic school then?
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