Junior High nostalgia

I mentioned that I haven't run very far since track in junior high (this was 7th and 8th grade, not to be confused with a "middle school" that might include 6th or even 9th). Then I found out yesterday that my 8th grade Algebra teacher (Ms. Trasp) is now working temporarily for my mom, and that she remembers me (I know, I know, how could she not remember Andi?). Well this brings me to another little memory that I would like to share with you. My 8th grade American History class met in a portable (again, a portable, not a "trailer" as people out here like to call them). For a while there we had a homeless man sleeping in our class at night, and sometimes my teacher (Ms. Robertson, whom we all loved) would be greeted in the morning by a note from him saying how much he enjoyed reading our papers and looking at our projects. Now doesn't that make you feel warm and fuzzy?